


Abyss Staring Back

by starkind



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), DC Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brutality, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, F/F, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, IronBat - Freeform, Kidnapping, Legal Inaccuracies, M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Mood Swings, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Partner Betrayal, Physical Abuse, Torture, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 25,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing that could have stopped them from living their dreams.<br/>Until one of Tony Stark's old skeletons rattled loudly in the closet.<br/>And it became Bruce Wayne who got in the line of fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, fair warnings first - this one is going to touch some less-than-nice topics in the upcoming chapters, so I kindly advise to heed the tags, as they will be updated accordingly.

_~prologue~_

  
The man who got out of the governor's mansion in Sacramento was quick to slip on some dark shades as he skipped down the stairs of the historical building. In front, a black sedan with tinted windows was waiting. As soon as he sat in the backseat, the limousine drove off. “Welcome back, Sir.” The man took off his shades and proceeded to loosen the knot of his silken, crème-colored tie.  
  
“What did I miss?”  
A newspaper got handed to him, and he actually groaned out loud at the headline.  
“Good gracious, not these two!”  
  
His opposite merely stared at him. “Three years of their do-gooder shit. Not only are they fucking each other, they are fucking with us as well.”  
  
The man crumpled the paper in his fist and shook his head. “Not anymore. I'm back, and I'm going to do something about this. I've had plenty of time thinking about a lot of possibilities. This here”, he wiggled his fist into his opposite's face. “will not set me back. Far from it. Maybe I can even use it to my favor.” With a deft move, the paper landed on the floor of the limousine, front page facing upwards.  
  
_'Stark and Wayne implement Greenery fusion project in New York – the power couple that works together, stays together'_  
Justin Hammer then morphed his bearded features into an ugly grimace.  
“Payback time.”

  
1.

Malibu, 2013

“He's back, you know. It's all over the news.”

A strong hand reached around Tony's midriff to snatch the steaming coffee mug from the kitchen counter. Stark tilted his head and got promptly rewarded with a kiss on the exposed side of his neck. A whiff of expensive aftershave wafted into his direction at the same time. “I know. Pardoned and with a clean record.”

“Like none of the crap he pulled at Flushing Meadows ever happened. Bastard. Wonder whom he paid.” Another kiss on the spot below Tony's earlobe. It was sensual enough to make him purr in low, throaty delight. “That's a pretty long list if you keep on thinking about it.” Long elegant fingers then got a hold of the coffee cup. “You're already plotting on how to keep a tight rein on him.”

Tony twisted around so that he was able to look at his fiancé.  
“Course! Bastard ruined my Expo, so I'm going to make sure people remember about his lowlife status.”  
Astute hazel eyes sized him up with affection, then Bruce Wayne smirked around his coffee.

“With you scowling like that, I wouldn't want to get on your bad side.” He leaned in to kiss the tautness around Tony's sensuous mouth away. Stark grumbled against his lips. "Entirely your fault, babe. Your Batsy's a bad influence on me.” Bruce narrowed his eyes, but it was without real malice. “Use the voice and I'll sue you for copyright issues.”  
  
Tony put a palm flat over his ARC and opened his eyes wide in mock-scandal. “Someone call the press! Bruce Wayne has just cracked a joke on his own behalf.” The Gothamite said nothing and pressed him back against the counter instead, trapping his body. Putting the meanwhile empty cup aside, Bruce then placed his hands left and right of Tony.  
  
“Are you making fun of me?” His voice slipped into that dark, gravely rasp associated with his alter ego. “Wouldn't dare, oh my dark, vigilante knight.” By now, Tony was practically grinning from ear to ear. He gave a yelp when two strong arms hoisted him up to sit on the counter. The ever-present smirk on his face was wiped away with a very intimate kiss, involving teeth and tongue.  
  
When Bruce drew back, Tony's visible arousal greeted him from underneath his pajama pants.  
“I'd be in the mood for some hot raunchy male sex now.”  
Steadfast, Bruce turned to grab his Armani jacket from a bar stool and slipped into it with ease.  
  
“Looks like you have to wait until tonight. The jet's already waiting.”  
Upon the disappointed grunt, Wayne pocketed his phone and threw a woolen coat over his suit.  
“I try to be back at 10 pm.”  
  
Tony padded after him on socked feet to steal another kiss, tugging at the coat lapels.  
“I'll have Happy pick you up at the airfield then.”  
Bruce ran his hand one more time through Tony's unruly set of bed hair.  
  
“Nah, I'll take the Aventador, quicker that way.” His shorter companion ducked and swatted the hand away with affection. “How about I'll take the suit and head over to New York tonight as well? Meet you there, gonna crash at the Tower, fly back the next day?” Bruce glimpsed at his Rolex. “Works for me.” Tony nodded, consent.

“Later, love.”

* * *

A tiresome, five-hour meeting with a new company to add to Wayne Enterprises' global structure later, Bruce Wayne dragged his weary form into the elevator. His slouch was not even faked; long periods of inactivity always exhausted him more than a night out on the rooftops. It was already past 9 pm, and he was glad for Tony's previously suggested change of plans.  
  
Some quality time together, involving soaking in the hot tub and eating in at Stark Tower, sounded far more appealing than a tiresome flight back to Malibu. Car keys in one hand, Bruce headed straight for the vehicle standing in the corner of the otherwise empty parking garage. As he dug for his phone to check for new messages, something made him perk up.

From behind concrete pillars and staircases, over a dozen dark-clad, masked figures approached him. With no witnesses around and no questions asked, they moved to surround him. Their attack went just as wordless as he expected, and Bruce sprang into fighter mode.

While he was busy felling goon after goon with precise, martial arts techniques, a quick whoosh from behind made him feel something mosquito-like sting the side of his neck. He brushed at the area in question and felt a thin needle, right before his vision went blurry. With gritted teeth, Wayne stumbled towards the driver's side of his Lamborghini, determined to at least make it inside the bullet-proof, armor-clad vehicle.

His fingers shook from whatever substance ran through his bloodstream, and he missed the door handle as his knees buckled.  
  
Bruce was out cold before his body hit the concrete with a dull thud.  



	2. Chapter 2

10:23.

Chin propped up in one hand, Tony sat and watched the red digits of the huge digital clock.

“Jarvis? Any news on Bruce? Has he entered the Tower already?”

“Negative, Sir. Mister Wayne is not at the premises yet.”

Tony's stomach growled. He rose from the couch and paced over to the bar area. “Meeting's supposed to be over since an hour. I know NY traffic can be a bitch, but...” Toying with the bourbon on the shelf for a moment, Tony eventually put the bottle back. He had promised his fiancé to cut down on casual drinking. “Try his mobile again, J. On speaker.”  
  
Seconds later, the dialing tone echoed through the vast penthouse. After five rings, the phone switched to mailbox. Stark told his AI to hang up, not in the mood for leaving yet another message. Bruce would mock him for the other two left ones already; no need to add fuel to the fire.

For what it was worth - Tony Stark was a terribly jealous individual at heart. Ever since their relationship had become official in 2011 and made it into public one year later, Tony not only was overprotective of his younger lover, he also lived with a constant, nagging fear of Bruce leaving him for someone else; someone younger, less damaged, and far better. Someone Bruce deserved, if Tony was honest with himself.

It had taken the Gothamite almost two years, and a carefully planned out, clandestine proposal at the revolving restaurant Hyatt Regency in Dubai, to prove and convince his significant other of his true intentions. Wayne had seen to the location being rented for just the two of them. During dinner, Bruce had appeared flat out nervous, up to a point which Tony never knew he could be.  
  
When a black velvet box had appeared under Stark's nose, right after a sumptuous dessert, the dark-haired billionaire for once had been rendered utterly speechless. He remembered how Wayne then started going into what seemed to be a perfectly rehearsed, complex, and utterly rational speech on the why and how he felt the time was right for them to take their relationship one step further.  
  
Tony also remembered how the only irrational thing had been Bruce's flushed cheeks. He himself had interrupted after not even ten seconds of Wayne's monologue with a volley of “Yesyesyesyesyes”, and broke two empty espresso cups while lunging over the table to plant a kiss on his soon-to-be husband's relieved lips. That night, high up in their penthouse suite, had been pure magic.

Back in the present, Tony stopped thumbing his platinum engagement ring and glimpsed up.  
“Get Mark VII ready, Jarvis, I'm gonna head over and see what's taking him so long.”  
“Right away, Sir.”

* * *

When Bruce came to, his arms and legs were shackled to a chair, and he was not in his suit anymore.  
No shoes, no jacket, no phone, no watch; nothing but him wearing thin socks, a button down shirt, and dress pants.  
His mouth hardened. That was bad. Very bad.  
  
Having no idea as to how long he had been out, he listened to peripheral sounds first before he dared to risk a cautious glance. From what he could make out, the room was large and equipped with little furniture. Just as he had shifted, there was a loud clank followed by bright neo light flooding the room. A cold voice rang out from the hallway. "Good evening, Mister Wayne. Having fun?"  
  
Bruce took a deep breath and turned to face the door with a dazzling smile. “So much trouble to see me. You could have just sent an invitation to my secretary, and I would've been glad to come over." Justin Hammer wore a broad smile as he walked into the middle of the makeshift cell. "Yeah, but I wasn't sure if you'd RSVP in time, so I figured I'd just make sure you really get here." He then preened in front of his captive.  
  
"We've got some party planned for you, Wayne. I think you're going to have a real good time." His gaze drilled into hazel eyes which held a glint of anger, even though Bruce stayed nonchalant. "Too bad we couldn't get a hold of your better half, to come and watch, but that's okay. He'll be receiving our very special broadcast soon enough." Hammer pointed up to where a little black apparatus sat in the corner of the room.  
  
“Smile – you're on candid camera.”

It was then that Wayne's eyes lost whatever facade of friendliness they had held and became hard. He forced his jaw to unclench as he locked eyes with his kidnapper. “Leave him out of this. Whatever it is that you want, you can settle with me.” Justin Hammer watched him, reveling in the fact he seemed to have struck a nerve, and shoved his left hand into the pocket of his pants.  
  
"Oh? So, Brucie, you're really game for taking up the slack then? Your boyfriend's going to be sooo proud of your heroic attitude. Or not. I mean, seeing he's about to watch you go down.” He reached over and backhanded the Gothamite so hard that Bruce's head hit the wall with a thunk. "Would you like that, Wayne? Hm? Let Stark watch as we play?”  
  
With a crude snicker, Justin Hammer turned around and bolted the door, leaving his prisoner in darkness.  



	3. Chapter 3

Tony rushed in on the business complex on Wall Street to find the regular office hours already over and the building locked. He engaged the thrusters and whooshed over to enter the parking garage through the barrier gate and atop its lift arm mechanism. “Show me the location of Bruce's phone again.” Jarvis pulled up a little red hair cross, and Tony followed its signal over to basement parking level.  
  
It soon led him towards the familiar, silver metallic Lamborghini LP 700-4 Aventator with its license plate reading 'BWayneNY77' standing in the corner. Tony's frown increased tenfold. “Call him again, J.” A faint chime interrupted the static silence in the parking garage. Something Tony identified as Bruce's ringtone. The armor gave a few electronic whirrs as he bent down to find the phone vibrating on the ground, under the car.  
  
His gauntlets fumbled around until he got the small item. Once Tony straightened back up, he stared at the display. _'F_ _ive missed calls. Two mailbox messages.'_ After he got rid of the notifications, Tony was met with himself as Bruce's background picture. It was a candid shot from back in 2012, most likely taken at a LA Laker's game, just as Tony was glimpsing up at his bodyguard and chauffeur Happy Hogan.  
  
Being the stealthy human being he was, Bruce had managed to sneak a picture. Tony knew Wayne harbored a special photo gallery on his own StarkPhone, consisting only of pictures of Tony that would never become public. “Bruce wouldn't leave his phone behind. I know he had it with him during the meeting, cause we were texting.” With an uneasy feeling, Tony pulled up their last conversation inside his HUD.

_'Miss you'_

_'Ditto. Shouldn't take too long now'_

_'Wanna go for dinner tonight?'_

_'Let's stay in. Delivery service'_

_'Domino's and a round of Wii fit tennis after?'_

_'Yes to both. Your ass is going to be mine'_

_'My ass is always yours, B'_

_'Good'_  
  
Scanning the perimeter again, Tony squinted against a sudden rush of anxiety behind his faceplate. “Something's fuckin' wrong here, Jarvis. Scan the surroundings for anything on Bruce.” Several red cross-hairs on his HUD started to flicker up after less than five seconds.  
  
“My sensors detect faint traces of concentrated sodium thiopental; an ultra-short-acting barbiturate. Also, there is a trail of tatters from anthracite cashmere on the floor. I believe the fabric matches the material of Mister Wayne's choice of clothing this morning.”

Swallowing hard, Tony's gauntlet clenched with care around his fiancé's mobile. Wordless, he powered his jetpack boots up again, tore away from the precious sports car, and headed back to the Tower on Park Avenue at Mach 3 speed.

* * *

When Hammer re-entered the room, he was accompanied by two goons with automatic rifles.  
"Up... up. C'mon, get up. Move it!"  
Weapons trained at him, Bruce got to his feet from where he had hunkered in an awkward position on the cold, concrete floor.  
  
“Playtime, Wayne. Against the wall. Assume the position."

When Bruce was reluctant to comply, one of the goons grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. A rough edge of concrete ripped his cheek as it slid across the jagged surface. In slow motion, the Gothamite complied. Once his arms were above his head, the goon punched him, hard. Despite the pain from the kidney blow, Bruce remained silent and grabbed the wall to keep his balance.  
  
Another hit followed immediately after, that time on the other side. All it elicited from Bruce was a little snort. “Beating up a bound man. How brave.” Justin Hammer took out a semi-automatic and pointed it at his head. “I didn't ask for your fucking opinion, choir boy.” Without warning, Bruce was decked by an unseen left hook that came out of nowhere.  
  
Mere moments later, the three men gave him a sound beating until he was kneeling on the floor on all fours, gagging and spitting blood. From behind his dark-rimmed, expensive pair of glasses, Justin studied the panting man at his feet. “This is not supposed to be a silent movie here, come on now, let's say hi to your beloved there, Brucie.” When the Gothamite did not rise to the bait, Hammer addressed the camera.  
  
“How much pain is worth $50 million, Stark?" He asked in a sing-song voice. "How long could I stretch it out for Wayne here, to make your discomfort worth $50 million? That's how much you cost me, Anthony. Never mind the past years in that hellhole you sent me to." Hammer's eyes narrowed. "$50 million, Stark... how can you possibly be worth that?"  
  
It was then that Bruce raised his battered head. "Don't they sell Forbes Magazine in jail?" The jibe came through bloody lips. Hammer seemed contemplative. "You know what? I think you're right. You are truly begging me to take up the slack here.” A quick glance back up at the camera.   
  
“Anthony, I gotta give it to you - your man here is quite smart. Oh, that was totally sarcastic, in case it didn't come out right over the camera. He's a fool who just handed down his own verdict.” Justin folded his arms in the small of his back and put up an important face.  
  
“Still, if I just keep him to beat him to a pulp, cripple but keep him alive, you get the picture... but no, see, that doesn't really cut it, doesn't even begin to touch it. Too run-of-the-mill.” He sneered right into the camera. “I need to truly see you brought down, Stark. To the gutter." Hammer's eyes hardened and he slowly let his gaze travel back to the Gothamite.  
  
"Of course, watching someone else get it in your place might be worth a few million dollars, like - don't hit the man, hit his buddy. His _fuck_ buddy. SO much better a reaction, hm? Wayne?" His laugh was dangerously manic. Justin then walked over to Bruce, forcefully yanked his head up by his hair to make him face the camera and continued with his dramatics.  
  
“Yeah, Brucie – I bet your Anthony thinks such a great deal of you."  
Bruce gave a tiny lopsided, crimson smirk.  
"Never could understand it."  
  
He kept his expression blank, to which his opponent nodded along in mock understanding. “Me neither, you know? All that boring, holier than thou attitude of yours. Seriously, I bet you fuck with the lights out, vanilla boy-toy. Take it up the ass in sweet, sweet missionary.” Hammer then dropped Bruce's head and indicated for his goons to keep their guns on him.  
  
“Maybe that's why you're so fond of little Anthony: Because he's such a man whore, such a bad boy – now, aren't you, Ante?” He winked at the camera before turning back to Bruce. “Or maybe it was the dead-mommy-and-daddy complex that brought you guys together?” Justin's voice had reached a mocking, sing-song level, to which Bruce continued to stare past him.  
  
Apart from a small bob of his Adam's apple, Hammer got no satisfactory reaction. "Oh-so composed, this Mister Bruce Wayne from Gotham. Tell me - isn't that city the most fucked up one in the country?” The muscles in Bruce's shoulders twitched on their own accord. Seeing it, Hammer put his foot on the small of his back and stood like a proud safari hunter.

“Wonder what it takes to make him degrade himself in front of you and me, Anthony. That might be worth a few bucks." Still cowering on his knees, Bruce clawed his fingertips into the ground. "Go to hell, Hammer." By then, Hammer seemed to have come to a conclusion. "Been there, done that, Wayne.” Two forceful kicks to Bruce's left kidney, and a rifle slammed into his nape forced him back onto the ground, face in the dirt.  
  
“It's about time _you_ get to learn the true meaning of hell, sonny.”


	4. Chapter 4

Back at his workshop, Tony was working a mile a minute, while Jarvis searched all channels. By now, Bruce was gone without a trace for over 48 hours, and his fiancé was sick with worry. “His phone's the only evidence he was ever there, in the garage. But why doesn't the tape show what happened? It looks like nothing is wrong.” His AI once more showed him the whole feed of the past 24 hours.

Tony cringed when he saw the black and white figure of his fiancé exit his car. “That's when he arrived there, but what about his departure? Where's the frame from 10 to 10:30?” Jarvis replayed the feed, producing the same result from before. “Apparently, someone hacked into the system and fixed the time stamp, Sir.” Tearing his eyes off the video feet, Tony pressed pause and swiveled around on his chair.  
  
“To make it look like Bruce never came out of the elevator.”  
  
“Indeed, Sir.”  
  
Stark tapped two fingers against his soulpatch. “Okay, so the surveillance feed got intercepted, playing an interim loop to fool the security. The only question is... why? Why Bruce?” Frustration made it hard for Tony to focus. He groaned out and ran both hands through his hair. “I need a second opinion. No offense, Jarvis. Get me the triple agent on the phone.”  
  
The talk with Natasha Romanov was kept brief, but she showed up at the Tower's Quinjet pad less than an hour later. Her red curls whipped in the wind as she walked up to him with a smirk. “This better be good.” After having stashed one of his improved suitcase armors in the jet's compartment, Tony stood waiting next to the open hatch, unsmiling. His eyes were hidden behind a dark pair of shades.  
  
“How many Avengers or agents are about to show up, once I told you not to tell anybody?”

“Oh please.” She cast him a sarcastic look as she stepped up the ramp and disappeared inside. Tony followed her up to the cockpit where he gestured for her to take the controls. As soon as they both strapped themselves in, Natasha grasped the rudder and flipped a couple of switches.

“Destination?”

“Gotham City.”

A slim and elegant eyebrow rose.

“Lovers spat?”

“Just get her up in the air, will ya.”

His forced reply and the impatient wave of his hand made her go through the motions of maneuvering the mighty aircraft out into the open sky without another word. Once they were airborne and the system mostly on autopilot, Romanov cast her silent passenger a glimpse. “And here I thought you wanted to speak to me about the latest intel on Hammer Foundation.”  
  
Slamming his palm down on the armrest, Tony pulled a face. “Thanks for making me waste another single thought on that sleazeball. Just what I need.” Natasha eyed the readout to her left. “Just saying. He's heavily pushing for showing the public how much of a changed man he is, doing good for the less fortunate ones. There are ads and reports everywhere.”

Fingers drumming an impatient rhythm, Tony eyed the speedometer. “Don't buy it for a second. Once a douche, always a douche, but, please - pedal the metal, sweetheart, I don't have all day here.” With a brief thought to the rogue gallery on his lover's computer, Tony made a mental note to double check. The look Natasha cast him when Tony took over on the final stages and steered the jet into the Palisades spoke volumes.  
  
As soon as they whooshed through the waterfall and came to land upon a huge cubical platform, the assassin curled her red lips into a disdained pout. “To think I was stupid enough to talk Nick out of the idea of Bruce Wayne being the Batman.” With a humorless smirk, Tony unbuckled and moved towards the exit. “To think you will continue to talk Fury out of it in the future is even more gratifying.”

Lighting fast, there was a hand on his wrist, preventing him from lowering the hatch.  
“What is going on here, Tony?”  
Before she could reach out to take away his glasses, he slipped them off himself.  
  
“Bruce has been kidnapped. I don't have any traces or clues whatsoever. I am desperate enough to take a chance on you, and that ginormous computer system of his to find out who has him, where and why.” Fear and determination mingled in his expressive brown eyes, making her simply nod. “Let's get to it.” As soon as they exited the Quinjet, a British voice echoed through the vastness of the cave.  
  
“Master Anthony, your visit comes more than a little surprising.”

“And I wish it wasn't necessary, but we have... a situation, Alfred.”  
From where the butler had sized up the petite redhead dressed in her black combat suit, he threw Tony a displeased look of reproach.  
“I do believe so, regarding your... company.”

Stark ignored it and began making his way over to the computer panel on the right side. “Bruce is missing since Thursday night. Someone nabbed him right after a meeting in New York.” With a quick tug into the pocket of his denims, Tony produced a sleek little device. “I need to hook up Jarvis onto Bruce's mainframe, see if that gets better results. _Any_ results.”  
  
While Stark was busy setting up his tech, Natasha followed him over to the supercomputer under stern scrutiny from Pennyworth. Her astute eyes roamed all over the Wayne technology. “This even puts SHIELD to shame.” Tony said nothing, took a seat on the carbon chair and inspected the many screens.

* * *

Precious time passed by, during which nothing seemed to produce any veritable information.  
  
By now Tony Stark was beyond irate, tired and frustrated. Knowing there was no use in getting him to take a rest upstairs, Alfred had let him concede; albeit still wary about his female companion. “Isn't it safe to assume he'd go and free himself, considering his... abilities?” Natasha, who had taken a nap in the Quinjet after the first 18 hours of fruitless vigil, eyed her teammate's haggard countenance with unvoiced concern.  
  
Tony started to rub his face in his palms multiple times. “Unlikely. Bruce knows he's got a reputation to uphold – and that doesn't include stealth and endurance for the most part. He already went out on a limb here by not playing the ditzy wuss.” The Russian spy cracked her neck and stretched her arms above her head to force circulation back into her extremities.

“I am starting to understand why you wanted me to come along.”  
The look Tony threw her through bloodshot eyes was a dark one.  
“It pays off to have someone around when things are going postal. Which they will.”

Natasha said nothing, except for the way her eyebrow rose. Tony turned back to the screen, put his elbows on the desktop and steepled his fingers in front of his face. Footsteps from behind broke through the brooding silence minutes later, accompanied by a faint rattle of glasses on a tray. “I have prepared some more coffee and light snacks. It does not seem beneficial to run low on energy during this strained period of waiting.”  
  
While Natasha gratefully accepted a cup and a sandwich, Tony stubbornly shook his head. “Not hungry.” The butler cast him a stern look. “Master Wayne would not approve seeing you run yourself down, Sir.” “Well, he sure as hell doesn't approve being thrown under the bus for me either, so there's that.” The voice of Jarvis stopped Pennyworth from giving an answer to Tony's acerbic retort.  
  
“Decoded video stream from unknown source, Sir.”  
  
As soon as the image popped up on the big screen of the cave, Tony thought he was going to be sick. Bruce was sitting chained to a chair; bloodied and beaten up beyond recognition. He seemed barely conscious, and Tony watched in stunned helplessness as Justin Hammer entered the scene.  
  
“Hello there, Anthony. Once you get this message, this video feed is already several hours old. Meaning, all that you are about to witness now is basically old news. But maybe you're still interested to watch. Let's do a little round of 'Previously on Hammer cam' first, now shall we?”

The bluish hues of the recording played upon the petrified faces of Tony, Alfred, and even Natasha as they had to watch several brutal attacks on Wayne. Even as it made him sick to the core, Tony forced himself to not look away. “Jarvis? Run a scan, find the source! FIND BRUCE!” The humiliation Hammer applied to showcase his upper hand, both verbally and physically had Tony taste the metallic flavor of blood on his tongue.  
  
_“Jarvis!?!”_

His voice rose several octaves and became shrill. When Natasha's hand appeared out of nowhere on his shoulder, Tony forced himself not to hyperventilate and held his breath. “Sir, I am trying to filter the IP address. The system has been coded with a to me unknown application firewall.” Tony did not dare to turn and look at Alfred, afraid of what he would see in the other man's eyes.  
  
“Then use the mainframe of the cave's system to override the firewall!”

A close up of Justin Hammer interrupted the latest session of physical abuse, at least visually. In the back, continuous sounds of punches being thrown were heard. “Like I said, this is getting too boring for me here. I think we're just about to reveal our biggest surprise soon. Stay tuned.” As if on cue, the feed stopped and they were back in the dark cave.  
  
The mainframe of Bruce's supercomputer began to flicker green instead of red. Jarvis' voice echoed through the cave. “Sir, I have decoded the feed. Deblocking all channels. I am recalibrating, GPS is active.” Three people waited with baited breath until the AI pulled up a virtual map on the screen. Tony inhaled sharply through his nose as he read the coordinates and sprung to his feet.

“Jersey. That fucking bastard is operating right under my nose and I didn't find him!” As he was about to slam a fist through one of the monitors, a weathered hand stopped him by the wrist. “Go.” Alfred's voice sounded foreign. “Go and find this monster, Master Anthony. Save Master Bruce.” Jaw tight, Tony nodded once and cast Natasha a brief look. “Jarvis? Suit me up!”

He simultaneously began to stride down the platform over to where the murky waters started to gurgle and whirl. Soon, another chamber rose from the depths of the lake. At the sight of the suiting up station which harbored an Iron Man armor inside, Romanov cast the elder man a glance. “A sight to behold, isn't it?” Hands clasped behind his back, Alfred pensively watched on as the station engulfed Tony's body.  
  
“Indeed, Madam.”  
In less than two minutes, the Silver Centurion armor stood in front of them; tall and menacing in all its polygonal shaped glory.  
The eye slits were glowing in the dark as Iron Man looked around.  
  
“I'm ready.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is going to give you an idea on where this is headed, so if this is not your cup of tea, or triggering in any which way, I kindly advise you to not proceed any further (I may sound/act overdramatic, but it's better to be safe than sorry, right?)

“Maybe it would be an option to involve the others.”  
  
From where he was flying inside Mark XXXIII next to the Quinjet, Tony glimpsed into the cockpit. “No. Bad enough I let _you_ in on Bruce's little sham. Fury's not gonna get to recruit the Batman.” Natasha's eyes roamed all over his faceplate before she focused back on steering the aircraft through a patch of clouds. “I am talking about saving the man, not the vigilante.”

Stark had to suppress a harsh sounding laugh that sounded more like a snort. “Why would they? To them, Bruce Wayne is just a simpleton with too much money and spare time on his hands.” The Russian adjusted her headset and gave a small shrug. “Don't tell me you and his butler are the only ones in the know.”

“What if we were?”

“Stop embarrassing both of us by lying to my face, Stark. It won't take long for me to find out.”

“Why do you care? All you need to do is make sure you shoot the bad guys right between the eyes and keep this whole mission confidential.”  
  
“Because we're a team. And if one of us is in trouble, we're going to stand together.”  
  
“Are we? With Thor in Asgard, Banner back in India, and Steve and Clint out and about in God-Knows-Where, I'd say neither of them could be persuaded to help my, how did the birdbrain put it? My bland, boring billionaire boyfriend from Gotham City. So, yeah – thanks, but no thanks.” Before Natasha was able to comment on the bitterness of his assumptions, the AI spoke up.  
  
“Sir? There are more video streams leaking from the hacked link.”  
Fear rising up from the back of his throat, Tony swallowed.  
“On HUD, Jarvis. Mine and the Quinjet.”

The connection loaded in less than two seconds, featuring the beaten up Gothamite still bound to the chair. “Now... as for the big surprise we've got in stock...” Hammer snapped his fingers, reached out over his shoulder, and got handed a small package of white powder by a tall goon. He moved closer to the video camera and wiggled the bag right in front of the lens.  
  
"You would know what this is, Anthony, but would your hunky loverboy? Let's find out.”  
  
Throwing the bag back at his henchmen, they then began to melt the powder at a nearby table with a small silver spoon. Tony's heart started racing, eyes locked on Bruce's horrendously mangled face on-screen. He failed to notice the look Natasha cast him through the windshield and instead stared at the screen where Hammer zeroed in on Bruce with a small and sharp object glinting in his hand.

It was a syringe filled with clear liquid.  
  
Justin Hammer basically preened as he presented it to his bound up victim with a taunting wave of the hand. "Nothing to say, Mister Wayne? Ah, give it a few days, then it'll be a different story." Some kind of mad triumph glinted in Hammer's eyes as he nodded at the present henchmen. They tied off Wayne's left arm with rubber tubing until his veins started to bulge.  
  
It was then that Bruce began to struggle against the plastic Velcro tie-downs around his wrists. He almost managed to loosen the bonds and tip the chair, when he received two sharp blows to the head. For mere moments, Bruce went slack, and it was then that Hammer moved over and positioned the needle on a bulging vein, barely piercing the soft skin. From his hunkering position, he peeked up at the camera again.  
  
“Let's wait for him to be fully conscious, to tell us how much he likes it.”  
Tony gritted his teeth so hard, there were splinters of enamel on his tongue.  
“You fucking psychopath, Hammer.”  
  
When Bruce came out of his brief daze, his eyes immediately settled on the hypodermic. Clenching his jaw, an agonized "No..." escaped his lips, despite trying to hold back, and much to Hammer's pleasure. His tormentor smiled even more as he jabbed the needle into the soft skin. The plunger slammed down to deliver its load in a painful rush of fluid.  
  
No sooner than the syringe was empty, Hammer jerked it out and tossed it aside, straightening back up to his full height. He gave a patronizing pat to his victims head as it lolled forward. "Enjoy. Let's watch you get off that sanctimonious pedestal you made for yourself, Wayne."  
  
Tears started to threaten Tony from behind unblinking eyes. They were filled with apprehension and fear as he watched the crown of Bruce's head. “No. Please, no... babe. C'mon, look up, look at me.” His mumblings stopped when Wayne lifted his head to stare at Hammer soon after. The Gothamite's smile was dangerous and brilliant; his eyes glittering with unabashed energy.

Justin Hammer's nasty smirk took on an even more warped edge. "Ohhh yeah. Just like that, it begins. Just wait, buddy. It's heaven now, but this takes a little time, and then there's going to be... hell.” The feed then stopped abruptly and flickered with static.

Before Tony could try to take a deep breath, least of all his frantic thoughts under control, Hammer was back in their faces; clean-shaven and wearing a different kind of suit and a different pair of glasses. “So much for setting the scene. Now, Anthony, what do you think your Gotham stallion has been doing all this time?" He giggled and pointed a finger at the camera.

“Let me give you a clue – it's got something to do with jacking up. Yep, I'd go so far and say he's getting real good at it by now. Already has that needle down pat. Such a quick study...” At that, Tony could not hold back anymore and let out a feral scream, trying to shut out the hateful words. Unmindful of the tears running down his cheeks, he balled his gauntleted hands into tight fists.

“I'm gonna kill you, Hammer. I'm gonna find and kill you. With my bare hands.” Through the heavy nasal breathing inside his helmet, Tony eventually managed to filter out Natasha's voice. It sounded professional and detached. “This is going to stay a two-people mission. Search and destroy. No questions asked, no answers given.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Their destination turned out to be a deserted area at the outer rims of New Jersey. While Natasha looked for a suitable place to land the Quinjet, Tony had Jarvis scan the building in question. It looked like an old, abandoned warehouse, without any guards or surveillance cameras around. Sensing some kind of trap, Stark consulted his AI.

“Infra-red scan.”

“No enhanced security systems. My sensors detect a total of three alive human bodies inside.”

Fear constricted a tight rope around Tony's throat.

“... B-Bruce?”

“Mister Wayne is held in a room at the very bottom of this building, Sir.”

Not bothering to wait for Black Widow, Tony rushed in, about to end the dreadful situation once and for all.  
HUD set for attack mode, he got into what looked to be the makeshift cell block area.  
“HEY! What?! Oh sh---”

Tony recognized the tall man with a thinnish ponytail from the video feed in an instant. Without warning, the Vibranium blades shot out of the gauntlets with a whooshing sound and Iron Man surged forward. His victim barely had time to yell out before the Vibranium pieced into the flesh of his shoulders, pinning him to the wall. “You're not injecting anyone with your shit ever again!”

Ignoring the wailing cries of pain as the man wiggled in his crucifying imprisonment, Tony detached the blades from his suit and left him hanging at the wall. His metal boots clanked on concrete as he walked the rest of the corridor.

* * *

Bruce Wayne lay in a corner of the dark room, one arm thrown carelessly over his eyes. Consciousness was slowly coming back to him, and with it, remembrance of reality. He was still coasting down from the latest dose of heroin, caught in a state between high and low.

Hammer's men had frequently administered dose after dose, giving him no choice but to obey. If he became too great a problem, they would beat him near senseless until he stopped struggling. By now, his arm was pitted with raw, angry punctures; mute testimonies of his efforts to fight manipulation. From nearby, he heard a door screech open, and a chill went down his whole body.

With great effort, he took his arm away from his eyes. In an instant, the thin beam of a flashlight hit him square between over-sensitive eyes, and he shut them with a pain-filled groan. “Bruce? Babe? Can you hear me?” Once the faint heat left his forehead, he tried to formulate a croak, sadly to no avail. "Mister Wayne is awake, Sir. I detect pinpoint pupils and shallow breathing."

When he got lifted up, Bruce was hit with a sudden case of debilitating nausea.

His legs sagged and he nearly went down in a dead-weight, but there were arms around his frame all of a sudden, keeping him upright. A canister of water got pressed to his split lips seconds later. “I got you, my love, I got you now. Don't worry.” Tony's voice was soft and gentle; a huge contrast to his massive iron gauntlets which tore the shackles around Bruce's body off with ease.

They were careful to scoop his limp form up in Tony's arms, and carried him out to where the Quinjet was waiting for them in broad daylight. Once inside the aircraft, Tony Stark was not ready for the sight that greeted him. Bruce Wayne was bathed in a sheen of sweat, and shivering like crazy. He was disheveled, dirty, and bruised from head to toe; clothes reeking of sweat, bile, and blood.

As soon as he was placed upon the gurney, he curled up, clutched both arms tight around his midriff, and drifted off into unconsciousness. It was then Tony felt the tears starting to fall. “God... Bruce... oh, God --... how could this happen?!” Natasha Romanov hovered behind them, furious and helpless at the same time. Quick to assume the controls of the jet once more, she headed for Stark Tower.

With a hand over the speaker of her headset, Natasha looked back over to where Tony knelt next to Bruce. “ETA 15 minutes. I've contacted Pepper to keep the lab ready, just in case.” Stark said nothing and only nodded, continuing to watch his lover with dulled eyes.  
  
Once the jet touched down, a handful of trained medical professionals strode into their direction.  They loaded Wayne onto a mobile gurney and immediately headed for sickbay. In the bright, harsh light of Stark Medical Unit 01, Bruce looked even more appalling. At the sight of his arms, Tony had to stifle an urge to gag.  
  
After he had watched him being wheeled away into an examination room, he went to strip off of his armor, only to pace the corridor of his private medical facilities no ten minutes later. Natasha had made herself scarce, but she had taken precautionary measures of support in form of Pepper Potts. When the redhead wordlessly stood up and moved to take him into her arms, Tony let her.  
  
Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he inhaled her shampoo and drew a deep, shuddering breath. “They got him hooked on crack, Pep. Bruce has been force-fed heroin for the past couple of days, and...” Massive guilt and despair resounded in his muffled voice. His former assistant reached up to cup the back of his head and started running her fingers through his hair.  
  
“Bruce is strong, he will fight this. No one is to blame, except those monsters who did that.”  
  
Tony detached himself and gripped her by the shoulders. “Hammer. Hammer did this. With a lot of influence and help from unknown sources. He was gone by the time we got to Bruce, but I swear on my life, I am going to find him. And then I'll kill him. Slowly and painfully.” Pepper's eyes darted in between his, full of concern. “Vengeance is not your priority now, Tony, Bruce is. We will deal with Hammer when the time is right.”  
  
Together they took a seat in the designated waiting area, fingers interlaced in mutual, silent prayers.


	7. Chapter 7

Surreal dreams and bizarre scenarios flooded his subconscious. Hallucinations like back in Tibet, only occupied by greater pain were running circles in his mind. At some point, however, the fog surrounding him began to rise, allowing him to return to surface of consciousness in waves.

As he became more aware of his surroundings, Bruce Wayne dared to open his eyes and was met with the warm, affectionate gaze of Tony Stark. “Welcome back to the land of the living, babe." The Gothamite attempted a sparse smile. “Hey.” It came out more of a croak. “How are you feeling?” His throat was raw and coated as Bruce tried to swallow. “Th... irsty.”  
  
In an instant, Tony looped an arm around his neck and held a straw to his lips. “Easy there, hon, take it slow. Just sip it real slow.” Some of the liquid spilled over after Bruce had to cough, and Tony carefully took the glass away. “Wha'day's't?” The syllables of his sentence were slurred into one. “It's a Wednesday. Wednesday the 14th  August 2013.” With a slow exhale, Bruce's swollen, black eyelids drooped shut again. “Wh're...”

“Tower. The med bay. You've been here for the past three days. I...” Tony's carefully constructed facade crumbled. “... at some point, I thought you'd wash away. Never seen someone sweating so much.” He gave an insecure chuckle and leaned in to gently cup Bruce's left hand. His pinkie and ring finger were taped together, after having been broken, the knuckles bruised and scraped.

Bruce's fingers curled inside his, giving a weak squeeze.

“S'rry.”  
  
“No need to be sorry, babe, you just sleep and rest. I'm here.”

* * *

Outside, Pepper awaited him, phone in hand and wearing an expectant expression. Tony made sure the door was closed shut behind him. “He's been awake, briefly.” She tilted her head. “And?” Tony blew out his cheeks. “Hard to tell with him looking like he got run over a bus. Give it a couple more days.” She glimpsed at the screen of her device. “I spoke with Alfred, again this morning. He's still worried.”

Stark frowned. “Did you mention...” A vague gesture of his hand. Pepper shook her head once. “You didn't want me to, so I didn't. But if things are going to get worse, Alfred needs to know what happened. All of it.” They walked down the corridor side by side. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie jacket, Tony chewed on a piece of gum, staring ahead.

“Knowing Bruce, he wants to try cold turkey. Ride it out before anyone else gets wind of it.” Pepper cast him a more than skeptical glance. “Tony, that's...” He reached out to punch the button for the private elevator. “I know, Pep. But maybe it's the best solution. Remember... speaking from experience here.” She held her tongue, not wanting to dwell on the most destructive years of being his PA.

Between 1997 and 2003, Tony Stark had been going through the most rough patches, both publicly and also in private. She once admitted she had lost count of the many rehab stunts and relapses that marked his late twenties. Her boss had outlived more substance abuse than anyone Pepper Potts had ever known. “I still think you need to let professionals take care of him.”  
  
With a soft ding, the massive elevator doors opened.   
Tony clasped her shoulders and got on his toes to put a kiss on her forehead.  
“I got this.”

* * *

Day five found Wayne still looking rough; face and body a mass of purple, blue, and reddish bruises. He was adamant about getting out of sickbay, however, so Tony personally signed his release papers and helped him make his way down into the private area of the Tower. He hovered behind his fiancé as they entered the familiar penthouse area at Stark Tower.

Bruce still moved stiff and like he was in a lot of pain, despite stating otherwise. Sitting on the edge of their bed, Bruce watched Tony hover around in uncertainty. "Do you want to rest a bit, hon? You can take a little nap if you like." Feeling caught, Bruce stopped massaging his temples and looked up. “I think I want to get a shower." A cautious gaze. “Join me?” From where he had lingered in the doorway, Tony eventually nodded.  
  
He followed him into the adjacent master bathroom where they started with brushing their teeth. Tony tried hard not to stare at the mangled body once they discarded their clothes. Soon they stood underneath the steaming torrent and let warm water cascade down their bodies in the large rainforest shower cubicle. Bruce Wayne's arms were surprisingly strong as they pulled the shorter man close.  
  
“Missed you.”  
  
At the familiar low voice, Tony's eyes fluttered shut on their own accord, but before his libido got the best of him, cock already half-mast, his fingertips ghosted along the many scabbed-over marks. Feeling guilty, he stilled his caressing motions. “Same here.” Tony tilted his head to bury his face in the hollow of Bruce's wet collarbone. “The one thing I can't live without is back with me, after he nearly... after I...”  
  
Choking on his words he tried to coat it over with a cough.  
Bruce wrapped his arms around him, holding on tight.  
“Everything will be alright.”  
  
And right there and then, Tony Stark believed him.

 


	8. Chapter 8

No more than four hours later, Bruce was starting to go into serious withdrawal.

As he became more agitated by the minute, tossing and turning in between the sheets, Tony consulted his AI. Jarvis scanned Bruce's vitals, then came to a conclusion. “Prepare for Mister Wayne becoming very sick, Sir. You may even have to tie him down.” From where Tony leaned against the kitchen counter, he pressed the heel of his hand into an eye socket and heaved a sigh.

“This is gonna become hardball. What can we do to ease his pain?”

“Loperamide is an opioid drug which helps to relieve stomach cramps and other withdrawal symptoms when taken at high dosages, every 5 to 6 hours, or as needed.” With Jarvis' voice still on his mind, Tony approached his dozing lover with a glass of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice and a pack of Imodium tablets. As soon as the rim touched his lips, Wayne pulled away.  
  
"Ugh, no. Don't think so. Maybe later." Stark shook his head. "Sorry babe, but you gotta drink it all up. The pills will work soon, you'll see, and you need to stay hydrated to detoxify and regulate your body temperature as well." Bruce closed his eyes for a few moments and then continued, his voice tight and strained. "I... don't know what's coming... I really don't."  
  
He opened his eyes and looked at him straight on, pained. "It's gonna get worse, I can feel it... I can't say what I'll do.” His lover made him take the cup and swallow some of the sour liquid. Wayne's face contorted and he eventually pushed the beverage away. "No more." Tony, however, was adamant. "Just a few more swallows, Bruce. C'mon, it'll help after a few minutes."

When Wayne finally couldn't take anymore and drew away, Tony decided not to push it any further.  
"Why don't you lay down for awhile, babe? Get some rest."  
Bruce's haunted eyes seemed to mock him for his choice of words, but he complied.

Within moments, he was asleep.

* * *

Tony sat in the large wing chair at the other end of the large room, chin resting on tightly laced fingers, as he watched his fiancé's restless sleep. His own eyes were burning, and despite his best tries to stay awake, his body caved in. No more than half an hour later, he jerked back into awareness to the sound of faraway retching. Disoriented, Tony looked around and found the tangled sheets of the bed empty.  
  
“Oh, crap!”  
  
Sounds from the adjacent restroom caught his attention. With a sigh of slight relief, Tony knocked and entered to the sight of Bruce being sprawled on the floor, propped against the tub, breathing in and out in shallow puffs. What little grapefruit juice he had managed to chug down had made its reappearance. Flushing the toilet, Tony hunkered down next to his drained lover.  
  
"You wanna go back to bed?" Eyes closed, Wayne gave a weak nod. Stark helped to lift him upright, then got a towel and wiped his clammy face. "We still have got to get some food in you, hon." Bruce shook his head. "N--not right now, just... don't." As soon as the Gothamite was safely tucked back into bed, Stark nevertheless went into the kitchen and made more juice and some peanut butter sandwiches.  
  
Keeping an ear for any sounds from the adjoining room, he was relieved to find there were none. Tray in his hands, Tony went back into the bedroom to find Bruce curled up on the bed, clutching his stomach. "It hurts. Goddammit, Tony - help me. I know you can. Get me something... please. We can ease me off later when I feel better. Stronger."  
  
The desperation in his voice sent chills down Tony's spine. Bruce's arms were wrapped around his midsection. Sweat glistened on his brow. "Tony... _please._ " His last entreaty was barely a whisper. Swallowing hard, Tony looked him straight in the eye.  "No, Bruce, I... can't. I can't do that." Wayne went rigid for a few tense moments, eyes averted, mulling over the answer.  
  
All of a sudden, he straightened up and returned the other billionaire's stare.  
"Then I'll get out of here and do it myself."  
His voice was flat, totally devoid of emotion, and his hazel eyes were cold as ice.  
  
Stunned by this new side, Tony placed the tray aside and remained rooted to his spot, blocking the door. “Please, Bruce, don't... don't let it come to this." They locked gazes in a ferocious stare-down. For the briefest of seconds, the real Bruce Wayne then seemed to resurface. His countenance flushed as he looked at his crestfallen lover. "Tony... I..." He bowed his head and the muscles in his face twitched.  
  
"It's...it's not what you think..."  
  
When the pain started up again, he clenched his teeth and buried his face in the sheets. As he twisted around on the mattress and graced his friend with his backside, Stark released a breath he did not realize he had been holding. No sooner than steady, even breathing filled the air, Tony resumed his position by the bedside and pulled out his StarkPad.  
  
Ever so often, his eyes would travel over to the person hidden underneath the blanket.  
Tony swallowed around the lump in his throat.  
It was going to get a lot worse.

 


	9. Chapter 9

When Bruce woke a little later, he seemed clear enough for them to lead a rather normal conversation. 

“What about Alfred? Does he know?”  
Tony moved to the window and glimpsed out at the New Yorker skyline.  
“Well, yes and no. About your capture, of course, Nat and I had to get access to the computer in the cave, and...”

“Nat? Who is Nat?”  
Tony swung around to face him.  
“That Russian redhead I work with? That scary little spider spy?”

“You let her in the _cave?”_  
Bruce's voice turned cold and detached.  
“She'd probably found out at some point or another. She's that good.”

“She knows about...?” Tony waved him off and inched onto the side of the bed. “Remember how Pepper found out about your other you by accident? When she came across some new Batsuit designs on my server, and asked me when I got in bed with Batman? I couldn't stop laughing for half an hour.” His try for an anecdote was met with deafening silence.  
  
Tony chuckled to himself, feeling the hairs in his inner ears vibrate with the change from annoyance to a hostility that suddenly hung in the air. The switch in Bruce's mood was more than palpable, as was his expression. “Why did you think Natasha should be there, in the cave? What the _fuck_ has gotten into you?” The words Wayne slung at him were clipped and aggressive. Taken aback, his fiancé tried for de-escalation.  
  
“Because I needed help! And Nat may be a spy, but she's on our side.” Wayne then outright sneered into his face. “Our side, our side. There's no 'our side', don't you fucking understand? There's you with your Iron Man made-public gig, and there's me. God, you're so fucking pathetic. Can't even keep a secret to yourself. Yet another betrayal.”

“Bruce...”

“No, shut up! Get out of my face!”

“But...”

“ _Out!”_

Once Tony had clicked the door shut behind him, he leaned against the wall, tilted his head back, and closed his burning eyes.

* * *

Several hours passed. The bedroom smelled of sweat, musk, and other effluvia. On the nightstand, an armada of OTC medicine bottles and packages piled up; from Pepto-Bismol over to NyQuil, unused or barely sipped at Gatorade beverages, and spewed out Valerian Root capsules.

Bruce was excessively sweating, barely keeping anything down before vomiting it out a few hours later, and suffering from bouts of flu-like symptoms mixed with anxiety and fatigue. “He's so strung out, I can barely reach him anymore. How long's this withdrawal shit take, J?"

By now, Tony Stark himself was tired, bone-weary, and desperate beyond belief. The bags grew darker under his eyes by the minute and resulted in him upping his caffeine intake too much to still be healthy.

"It depends on the individual, Sir. Seeing Mister Wayne had been completely drug-free prior to the accident, it makes him more susceptible, even to normal dosages. From his blood samples, it is clear he has been force-fed concentrated amounts of undiluted heroin on a frequent base.”

The physical withdrawal symptoms were supposed to be the strongest during the first week, and by now, Bruce seemed to be peaking. His desperation and erratic strength were at their highest. When he awoke from yet another of his brief sleep cycles, it was to a still very tired Tony. “How about we go out for some fresh air, honey?” Tony saw right through his appeasing tone and cheerful facade.  
  
“I'm sorry, babe, that's not possible at the moment.”

After Stark's refusal, Bruce deflated a bit, shrugged and turned away. As he went to use the restroom, Tony thought about how the reaction had been all wrong; he knew his fiancé better than that. It wasn't like Bruce Wayne to ever give up anything that easy. Sure enough, Jarvis' voice echoed through the vast penthouse area a few minutes later.  
  
“Mister Wayne, I kindly have to ask you to step back and retreat to your room.”  
  
Bruce was already at the private elevator, finger pressing firmly on the button. In no time, Tony dashed forward and put a hand on his arm. "No, babe... not that way." He was panting from exertion and lack of sleep. "Not while I've got any strength left to stop you." Wayne's countenance changed and became ugly within seconds, eyes turning cold and hard.  
  
"You have to sleep at some point, Tony. It's just a matter of time... _babe_."

The words were mocking, but before a horror-stricken Tony was able to formulate a reply, Jarvis chimed in once more. "No, Sir. Neither Mister Stark nor I will let you leave the premises." Out of nowhere, Bruce advanced in on Tony like a ninja, despite his condition. His hand found its way to his throat, to which Tony gasped. Bruce's fingers refrained from squeezing at the very last instant but stayed curled around sensitive skin.  
  
"I could kill you, Tony. Remember that. See how easy it is?"  
  
From where Bruce stood behind him, whispering into his ear, his crooning voice sent shivers down Stark's spine. "And then I'd be out of here in a minute. Neither you or your AI could stop me. No one can stop me." They stood motionless for a while, locked in Bruce's display of not-so-subtle malevolence. Only their ragged breathing filled the air.  
  
“Mister Wayne, I have to ask you to step back immediately. Otherwise...”  
  
Tony shushed his AI with a wave of a hand. And tried to swallow down his fear. “Bab-- Bruce, you're... you're tired. You need to rest for now.” Without an answer, the Gothamite released the shaken billionaire and staggered back to bed. Staring at him until he laid down, Tony only allowed himself to wipe a shaking hand over his face when Bruce was not watching him like a hawk anymore, asleep once again.

It was, however, the final straw that made Tony Stark cave in and call Alfred Pennyworth.

 


	10. Chapter 10

When Alfred arrived at Stark Tower, Bruce's protracted withdrawal symptoms had completely manifested themselves. The butler listened to a devastated and haggard looking Tony Stark for the longest time, until the latter threw himself backwards into the large couch, covering his face. “I know you want to unleash hell upon me, okay?! I may even deserve it, but... he needs help.”  
  
The grim line that was Pennyworth's mouth then moved. “Help which you should have gotten in far earlier, Master Anthony. I do sympathize with you and that for the most part good influence you have on Master Bruce, but this is unacceptable.” Tony took the scolding as steadfast as he could, before he spread his arms open wide in defeat.

“I thought together we would be strong enough for him to try cold turkey, but...” Footsteps from upstairs interrupted them. A pale and sickly looking Bruce Wayne stared down and cast his fiancé and butler a morose and mistrusting glare. “Whom are you calling weak?” Dark shadows framed his sunken-in eyes, and an inch of ragged stubble covered his cheeks.

“Master Wayne.”  
Alfred's focus instantly switched, and he rose from the couch with worry in his eyes.  
“It is good to see you.”

The great deal of relief hidden behind the simple statement only made Bruce's lips curl in a cynical way. “Is it? Is it really, Alfred?” From the corner of his eye, the butler saw Tony Stark watching him and his reaction. Pennyworth clasped his hands in front and bowed his head. "Seeing you alive always is, Sir.” Not knowing how or what to respond to that, Bruce continued to scowl at them.  
  
“I have a fucking headache. Are there any goddamn painkillers around?”  
His brusque request got Tony to jump off the sofa.  
“Of course, dear. A dose of Tylenol, coming right up.”  
  
Wordless, the Gothamite turned around and scuffed back upstairs, without a final glance back. From where Tony stood in the open kitchen area, bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water in his hands, he cast Alfred a defeated glance. “And that's where you get to come in, Alf. Be prepared for the worst.” At the way the clear liquid shook inside the glass, near spilling over, Alfred rose.

Taking both items from the shorter man, the butler allowed him to turn around to compose himself in private. “Get some fresh air, Master Anthony. I shall take care of this for now.” Head hung low, Tony Stark only nodded, pinching his eyes shut with his fingers. He was asleep on the couch when Alfred returned after a while, and the elder man covered him with a blanket before he went to unpack his suitcase on the 82nd floor.

* * *

The pale mauve light of an early dawn filtered into the room.

It cast shadows on Wayne's tired form as it shuffled into the open kitchen area of Stark Tower's private area. “Good morning, Sir.” At that Bruce flinched; something Alfred had not seen him do ever since he returned from Tibet. Dressed in a too big bathrobe, Bruce' eyes darted into his direction. He mumbled something in return and inspected the food on a tray. Alfred stopped chopping up fruit.  
  
“I was just about to serve breakfast in bed.”  
With a shake of the head, Bruce grabbed an empty cup.  
“Just coffee. Black.”

Pennyworth looked about to protest, but did fulfill his request without complaint. Bruce's long fingers curled around the mug as he took a cautious first sip. “When did Tony leave?” Pulling a face at the coffee's bitter aftertaste, he put it aside to palm one of the many built-in tablets. “An hour ago. Master Anthony told me he would be back around noon.”  With a non-committal grunt, Bruce began browsing through his emails.  
  
“His calendar says something about an event this Friday.”

Wayne's guts, raw from numerous upheavals, then gave a sickening lurch at the meager dose of caffeine, and he had to grab onto the counter for support. When he was almost doubling over, Pennyworth was about to come to his aid. In an instant, Wayne held up an arm to ward him off. He kept on clenching his teeth until the brunt of the cramping was over.  
  
Alfred made no further move to intervene, but kept on watching his protege with care. Eventually, the butler spoke. “The 74th New York Community Trust Charity Brunch at the Waldorf Astoria in New York. I have already taken liberty to formulate a decline on your behalf, Sir. You just need to formally sign it.” From where Bruce was clinging to the edge of the counter like a lifeline, Alfred saw his knuckles turn white.  
  
“No. I need... to show up, come what may. Show them nothing's wrong. I still have two more days.”  
On shaky legs, he straightened back up and looked his butler square in the eye.  
“And I need you to get me back into shape.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

“I promised Alf – one tiny little sign of discomfort, and I'll have you back here in a millisecond.”  
On the opposite row of the vast dressing room, a closet door clicked shut.  
“Don't make promises you cannot keep.”

Bruce then stepped into his line of view, and Tony stopped fumbling with his bow tie. His eyes gleamed at seeing his fiancé all cleaned up, shaved, and dressed in an immaculate black tuxedo with peak lapels, a white shirt with a turndown collar, and a silken bow tie. The bruises on Wayne's face had either healed up or been camouflaged to perfection.  
  
To the untrained eye, the Gothamite billionaire looked the picture of good health. Something else lay in his stance, too, something uncommon and almost fragile, but Tony held his tongue. “Never do.” As he fastened the cufflinks Bruce had gotten him for their 6-month anniversary, Tony cocked his head and gave the other man an approving once-over. “And you're a natural for Armani, even a couple of pounds lighter.”

Their fingers remained interwoven all the way from the penthouse down to the private garage.

* * *

To the smooth tunes of some piano bar jazz, they meandered along the Art Deco grandeur of Peacock Alley, the Astoria's lobby, where the Charity Brunch was held. At the sight and smell of the many food stations, Bruce's stomach started to churn. “We should've stayed at home.” Alarmed at his fiancé's quiet admission, Tony put a hand on his arm and haltered his motions.  
  
“Okay, c'mon. We'll leave. Right now.”  
Bruce cast him a tiny smirk.  
“I was kidding. Just don't try to make me eat seafood."  
  
Tony's eyes darted all over his even face, trying to decipher his true state of well-being. “I'm going to get us something to drink? Coffee?” Wayne squinted against some high-pitched female laughter erupting close behind them and shook his head. “Ginger ale. No ice.” Stark raised his chin with a nod. “Coming up in a sec. Go find yourself a cozy place. Be right back.”

His hand brushed along the small of Bruce's back as Tony sashayed off through the crowd, giving a few little waves and nods left and right. For a while, the Gothamite went on doing his own little round of socializing billionaire persona, before a smarmy voice from behind got him to freeze.

“Look who's here! Mister Wayne, you're looking a bit tired there. Hard week?”  
A slight twitch of a muscle under Bruce's right eye was all Justin Hammer's greeting elicited.  
“Get out of my face.”

He kept his voice deliberately low, as to not raise any suspicion. The other man's lips parted in delight. “Ah, but I know something to make you feel better real quick. And the best thing is... I have it with me.” At the taunting words, Bruce's eyes flew over to where Hammer reached into the pocket of his jacket and caught a glimpse of a little package.  
  
Sweat started to break out in the small of his back and he fought against licking his lips. “Not interested.” Hazel eyes started to dart around, looking for his fiancé among the crowd. Hammer used his momentary state of confusion to put an arm around his shoulders, making him wince. “Hmm, I think you are. And Anthony doesn't seem like much help at all. Or has he cared when you needed it?”  
  
_'Liar'_ Bruce's rational part of the brain screamed. _'Dirty liar'_. The non-rational part was already watering his mouth at the thought of a potential shot. “I have to go.” The grip on his arm tightened. “Ah, but Brucie. Pal. Don't be like that. Come on. Let me apologize for the trouble you went through.” With a nimble move, Hammer slipped the package into Bruce's breast pocket and patted it.

“Take this as a deposit. It's enough for a quick snort. But there's more of where this comes from. Good stuff. Premium-grade stuff. All it takes from you is to do me one favor. One small favor, and you can have it all. Keep your reputation, and also the good feeling you've been missing out the past few weeks...”

“Get the fuck away from him you dirty piece of shit.”

Tony's deadly voice interrupted their conversation. Once he had seen Hammer talking to Bruce, he ditched the drinks and all but bolted through the lobby. “Why so rude, Anthony? All we did was chat a little.” From where his arm was still around Bruce's shoulders, Hammer gave a squeeze. Daggers all but shot from Tony's eyes. “Take your arm away, or I'll rip it off and beat you to death with it.”

“Oh please, _Anthony._ Anthony, Anthony. Geez, this redneck attitude does nothing for you. What are you trying to achieve? Impress trophy boy with your badass attitude here?” It was then that Tony Stark saw red. An audible gasp went through the crowd as Justin Hammer hit the floor, curled up and covered his face. Bruce stood aside and watched in stunned silence.

Putting up a show for everybody around to see, Justin Hammer squirmed on the floor in visible agony.  
“Oh God, it hurts! Something is broken! He broke my face!”  
People had gathered around them, some elder women covering their mouths in shock.

“ _Unbelievable.”_

“ _Did you just see that? Tony Stark assaulted him out of the blue!”_

“ _Shocking!”_

“ _Somebody call an ambulance, please!”_

“ _And the cops!”_  
  
Tony shook his aching knuckles and glared at the many shocked faces. Five security guards were already advancing in on him. Bruce made a few steps in his direction, but his fiancé held up a hand. “No, I handle this. You go home.” He dug for the valet parking ticket to his Audi.

“I'll meet you there in a bit.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

“Stark, Anthony Edward?”  
Tony winced and swung his legs off the steel bedstead.  
“Egads, that's even worse than the smell in here.”

In front of his cot stood a stout police officer. To the man's left, the disdained and tired face of Pepper Potts scowled down at him. “You're free to go, the lady bailed you out.” The bars rattled as the officer unlocked the door to the prison cell. His assistant did not say a word and only pressed a small bag into his hand. It contained his watch, StarkPhone, and a silver money clip that was empty.

“Hey!”  
Indignant, Tony looked up.  
“Bail was $2,000 and I didn't have enough money on me at home when you called. At 2 am.”

Her voice was like a nail gun. Tony clipped his Rolex around the wrist and looked at the time. “Now it's almost 6, Potts, what took you so long?” Her stiletto clicks were aggressive on the pavement as she steered him into a waiting limousine with tinted windows. “You, Tony. You and your foolhardy actions.” Taking a seat across from him, Pepper all but threw a huge manilla envelope into his direction.

“Open up. Read.” A dark eyebrow rose. “Bossy woman.” He did as he was told and turned the envelope upside down. A stack of papers fell out. Tony took the first sheet and cast it a rather disinterested look. In seconds, his expression changed and he thumbed through the rest of the pile. “Ohh, boy, wait till Bruce's sees this.” Pepper regarded him as if he had turned insane when Tony whipped out his phone and took a pic.  
  
“You think this is funny?”  
  
“Hammer is suing me for assault and battery!” After he had pressed send Tony pocketed his phone again. “So yeah, this is beyond funny! This is...” He then shoved the stack of papers back into the envelope and threw the whole thing on the free seat next to Pepper with a dull thud. “That goddamn fucker - now we got him!” His assistant cast the manila a stern glance before her eyes found those of her boss again.  
  
“I don't think I can share your enthusiasm here, Tony.”

“But think about it, Pep - isn't this fucking ironic? We've got enough evidence to nuke Hammer's ass into the next millennium to put him away for good, and the greatest thing is – he dug his own fucking grave with this here.” She ran ginger fingers through her sleek ponytail and leaned back. “You know that Bruce will also need to testify in court, seeing he was a witness.”  
  
Tony's jaw worked, and he reached up to scratch at a spot on his cheek. “Did you speak to him? Is he alright? They would only let me make one call. I just hope he didn't take the R8 out for a spin. I'd hate another speeding ticket.” Pepper did not even try to suppress her loud exhale of breath. “No, I haven't. And I wouldn't advise bragging to him about your stunt even more. That's not what he needs right now.”

* * *

Bruce's phone blipped, waking him from where he had fallen asleep on the couch of their apartment on the 80th  floor of the Tower.

Seeing he and Tony were the only ones with unlimited access to the whole floor, Alfred had not been around to wake him. Staring hard at the slightly blurry picture Tony had sent him, together with the caption _'shit's about to go down, babe. I'll be there in half an hour'_ , Bruce swung his legs over the rim and stood up, brushing down his rumpled suit and hair.

A stale taste was in his mouth, which he ignored and headed for the elevator instead. Floor 79 was Tony's private workshop, where he busied himself with the latest designs and upgrades for the armor. He had given both his assistant and his fiancé unlimited access to it. Locking himself in, Bruce took a seat in front of the mainframe and brushed over the flat surface to which a virtual keyboard appeared out of nowhere.

“ _One favor, and you can have it all. Keep your reputation, and also the good feeling you've been missing out the past few weeks...”_

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Mister Wayne?”

“Are you in possession of all of the video feeds Hammer sent Tony?”

“Of course, Mister Wayne.”

“Can I... see them?”

“The Sir explicitly asked me not to, I am sorry.”

Bruce's quick fingers began typing on the keyboard.
    
    
     _Begin: Running / scripts / local / …_
    _Done_
    _Done_
    _Begin: Running /  AuthConfig / Indexes / ..._
    _Done_
    _Done_
    _Root @ (none): /# AllowOverride_
    _Root  @ (none): / #snyc_
    _Forbidden. You don't have permission to access / <dir> on this server_

He tried again, this time with another string of commands.
    
    
     _root@localhost: ~# cd/mt/c/_
    _root@localhost: /mnt//c#/ ls_
    _ls: cannot access pagefile.sys.: Permission denied_
    _ls: cannot access swapfile.sys: Permission denied_
    
    
     _Permission denied_ _ls: cannot access swapfile.sys: Permission denied  
    
    _

It was then that Jarvis' voice module intervened.  
“Authentication failure due to missing credentials. Servers are being shut down in five seconds.”  
Sweat started to form on Bruce's forehead. Licking dry lips, he swallowed and hurried to type.
    
    
      _Begin: D_
      _elete video feed / 0003 – 0009_
    
    
    
      _root@ (none): / initiate_ retcon protocol_exe_
    
    
    
      _root@localhost: / cat /proc/sys/net/core/netdev_max_backlog_
    
    
    
      _static struct cbr_node_arena * expand_cbr_node_pool() {_
    
    
    
      _dbg_printf("WARNING EXPANDING CBR NODE POOL\n");_
    
    
    
      _struct cbr_node_arena * current = cbr_node_pool;_
    
    
    
      _while (current- >next != NULL) {_
    
    
    
      _current = current- >next;_
    
    
    
      _}_
    
    
    
      _current- >next = create_node_arena();_
    
    
    
      _return current- >next;_
    
    
    
      _}_
    

The AI took less than a second to pop up a new window to go with his request.  
  
_'E_ _nter password for general override'_

 
    
    
     _PermitOpen _[IPv6_addr]:port_  
    
    .ssh/authorized_keys: Martha / Thomas / Howard / Maria _~/.ssh/rc__
    

With baited breath, the Gothamite stared at the screens as the loading bar started to move and reached for the little package in his breast pocket. Twisting it over and over in between his fingers, he eventually ripped it open and flicked the plastic aside.

_'Password correct. Deletion in progress. Estimated time: 02.39 minutes'_

While the AI went into safe mode, Bruce emptied the package upon the desk.  
Forming a neat line, he bent down to snort the powder in two quick, inhaling motions.  
As he sat and wiped at his nose, he watched the icons disappear from the screen one by one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if my inapt, bumbling excuses for coding offended anybody. That was never my intention. Seriously, I am even lost with Excel sometimes, it's that bad.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, there might be a hint of dubcon towards the end... but if so, it's really really mild (one might have to squint)

When Tony got to the Tower, it was already past 7 am. After a brief shower, to get the smell of stale prison cell blankets from his hair and body, Tony then went to seek out his lover. Much to his surprise, the bed was as untouched as the night before; even the box of cufflinks still lay on the comforter. An uneasy feeling set in.

“Where's Bruce, Jarvis?”  
No reply.  
“Jarvis?”

Pulse quickening, Tony marched over to the nearest built-in tablet and ran a few configurations.

_'File not found'_

Out of instinct, he palmed the power band on his wrist.  However, Tony was certain that without his AI on standby, his suit would not respond in time. “What happened to you, buddy – did we have a security breach I don't know about?” When no answer followed once more, Stark pulled out a keyboard and began typing.
    
    
    define('AUTH_KEY',   	'TR3=6po>2p[0M>gerR+a6l9+-{P7x_G:gWFF}{g/UNi[=+c}4 BPr}s0b*RDG|:R');
    define('SECURE_AUTH_KEY','`(LOFmnn]}[-*nJ,I*exG@_8d5 ?gEK# |z+,e6h1%8=q|{4,,;sXl<9lG-$$5$F');
    define('LOGGED_IN_KEY', '7>Ru_AQn2n}<Cp>W!T*dP6OiTQevIf7wDqcU-du!u%b-F+@y<&K^/;J!dB jc1sS');
    

After resetting the keys and parameters, Tony almost breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing a familiar voice. “Good morning, Sir.” Stark blew out his cheeks. “Remains to be seen, Jarvis – show me the damage done and how it happened.” The AI pulled up a rebooting screen. “None of your confidential databases have been compromised. I am running a scan as we speak."

With a small exhale, Tony sunk down onto the swivel chair. "You do that. In the meantime, where's Bruce?" With an eye out on the matrix-like digits running down the screen, the billionaire wiped a palm over his face. "Mister Wayne is in the workshop, Sir." Tony frowned. "Okay." He waited with his hands propped up under his chin for another two minutes.

"There seems to be a significant loss of data on the private SW server."  
  
Stark sat up straight and began going through the sensitive files one by one. The server was the only one holding both Iron Man's and Batman's suit modifications, and Tony had double and triple secured its access to protect it from getting hacked. After a few moments, he pursed his lips. "Nothing's been modified or copied. Show me an overview."

Jarvis did as he was told. "To be specific, the most recent addition to file 0973442_jh2384 has been removed, Sir." Tony inhaled sharply. “The video feeds of Hammer? What about the hard copies? Where are they?” His fingers hacked onto the keyboard with urgency. “I am afraid everything has been deleted, Sir. I can only recall protocol Retcon.”

Tony sprang up from his chair and began to pace.  
  
“But... but how? Who did that?”

“I did.”  
  
Stark swung around. The expression on Wayne's face was hostile as he stood in the doorway of the bedroom. His fiancé stared at him in shock. “You d... but... but why?” The way Bruce's eyes glittered with a sharp edge caused Tony to actually flinch and step back. “You betrayed my trust once by telling your team. You won't betray me again by bringing this up in public.”

His lover then brushed past him and went to the dressing room. After a few moments, Tony stormed after him. “Do you know what this means? Do you... realize what you've done?” It was only when Bruce turned to look at him that Tony realized he was still wearing last night's outfit. A tight-set jawbone greeted him, coupled with a cold glare.

“Ensured and preserved my integrity, that's what I did.” Wayne yanked the bow tie off his neck. “I know you may not give a damn about yours, but this is something you're not gonna fuck with.” Tony watched in stunned silence as the little silken item landed next to him on the bed. “I'm in control now, and I intend on keeping it like that.”

Wayne tore at the delicate buttons to his shirt with more force than necessary. His lover watched him undress down to his boxer briefs, eyes darting over the many, familiar scars and newly obtained bruises from Wayne's run-in with Hammer. “Babe, you're not... yourself... do you have...” Bruce's smile was warped, and Tony recognized its true nature.

“Just a little something to make me feel better. Weren't you the one telling me to always make sure I feel good? Think about that for a while, Anthony.” Bile rose in the back of Tony's throat at the meaning behind the statement. Bruce's lips thinned out. “I'm going to take a shower now.” Eyes unseeing, Tony dropped onto the edge of the bed as the door to the bathroom got locked.

He was unsure on how much time had passed by, but at some point, Bruce reemerged. He wore a towel around narrow hips, and a less hostile but still predatory expression on his face. “So. I thought about things, and I think I know now what you've been missing.” Large brown eyes blinked and risked a glimpse upwards. Bruce stood right in front of him, arms akimbo, hair still damp and neatly combed back.

He then made a move to loosen the knot of the towel to drop it to the floor, and Tony swallowed. “We, uh, really... shouldn't.” The Gothamite's smirk turned seductive as he leaned over to push his lover backwards onto the bed. Tony felt the warmth of Bruce's hands through the fabric of his shirt as he ran them from his shoulders down to the waistband of his sweatpants. “You're not in the mood? That never happened.”

The fondling to Tony's nether regions eventually got him to moan out, despite trying to hold back. “It's... ah... just... uh... not a good idea now.” Too weak to protest against his clothes being taken off, Tony shuddered when their bare bodies touched, and Bruce's unmistakable arousal brushed against his. “Why? All my blood tests came back clean. But if that worries you,” Bruce reached for the nightstand. “I'll put on one of these.”

Tony mentally cursed his body's treacherous reactions as he closed his eyes for a second. The feel and smell of Bruce's freshly washed skin on his invaded his senses, and his hands got a life of their own. Cupping and kneading those tight buttocks caused Bruce to give a low, throaty growl. “That's better.”

Their coupling was rough, but not up to the point of being violent. It got Tony's mind off all the things that made it wrong as his lover held him down by the neck while he thrust into him. The whole, massive bed shook from the force of Wayne's actions; an energy Tony had not suspected him to own. 

Afterwards, when Bruce was fast asleep in the sheets, Tony quietly dressed and went to make a call.

 


	14. Chapter 14

The line got picked up at the first ring, and the connection loaded in an instant.  
“Please don't tell me there are already amateur videos of you hitting Hammer on YouTube.”  
Pepper looked and sounded as ticked off as she had been when she picked him up at the NYPD.

“Worse.”

“What can be worse than that?”

“All evidence is gone. Bruce bypassed the server, took it down. It's... he's... somehow he's got his hands on some stuff last night, and... decided he doesn't want to win this case.” Tony took her aghast silence as an invitation to continue. “So now, we got nothing. Except for an anew shot up guy from Gotham with a fucked up sense of justice, and a shitload of unresolved anger management issues just begging to be released.”

Potts opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Stark worked his jaw which responded with a crack. “So here's how it's gonna go down: Hammer's gonna paint himself as the victim, trying to pull the wool over on the public. He's most likely going to succeed and there's nothing we can do.” Pausing his cynical list, Tony looked at the woman running his life for the past decade.

“Not for the moment.”  
Her composed statement made him scrunch up his nose.  
“What do you mean?”

“We need to reassess, gain some more time.” Pepper's eyes briefly switched to some off-screen action. “You mean we need to stall.” She nodded. “Another way to put it, yes. I have legal look into things as we speak. I'll keep you posted.” Tony attempted a smile that came out more of a sigh. “Thanks, beautiful, I owe you.” The woman's eyes on the other end of the line grew softer.

“I know.”

They shared a meager smile that was less hopeful than Tony would have liked it to be. Once the call ended, he dipped his executive chair back and shielded his head with his arms. He held that position for the longest time, listening to the sound of his breathing until the video intercom buzzed.

“Master Anthony?”  
Tony leaned forward to palm the speaker's sensor.  
“Yes, Alf?”

The butler did not comment on his poor choice of a nickname, and that was when Tony knew something was wrong.  
“Your presence here might strongly be recommended.”  
It was not concern which coated Pennyworth's voice, it was fear.

His stomach churning from too little food and sleep, Tony bolted for the door.

* * *

_The alley was dark and reeked of urine and other foul stenches._

_His mother's heels made soft clicking sounds on the cobblestone as she walked alongside his father, arms interwoven._  
_He looked at his feet. The ground began to dissolve underneath his feet, turn into black tar. He was stuck. Helpless._  
  
_Bruce...!_

 _A shot._  
_Another one._  
_Red, thick liquid on boiling tar._  
  
_Acerbic smells fill his nose as he drops to his knees. White pearls falling onto the ground, oozing into the melting ground. He raises a hand, looks at it – it is covered in black molasses. Dead bodies by his side, he cannot touch them, cannot press his soaking wet fingers onto the red that runs and mingles with the molten tar. His tears are saline as they run over his upper lip. The black does not go away as he rubs it against his thighs._

_His father's last breath is for him. “Don't be afraid...”_

_(How can I not?)_

_He closes his eyes as to not see him die._

_“Bruce... babe...”_

_Another voice - dulled, far away, but it makes him shudder with reminiscence. Bruce sees himself open tear-filled eyes again, forces himself to look down at the shattered remains of his family. A flash of metallic red and gold, stained and swallowed by black liquid tar. Memories rush past him faster than he can follow. Then there is no more tar, no more dead bodies; only him and Tony walking out of the Gotham opera house._

_It rains. Their steps echo on the cobblestone._

_A shot._  
_Another one._  
_Next to him, Tony collapses soundlessly._

 _Bruce drops to his knees next to his lover, cradles his torso._  
_Red thick liquid pools on wet ground. Dark brown eyes open.  
“Why, Bruce?”_  
_  
Dark crimson dribbles down the corner of Tony's mouth._  
_One final, shuddering breath, then his eyes go blank._  
_Bruce tilts his head back as a bloodcurdling scream rips from his throat._

* * *

“NO! TONY! NO!!”

The sobs turned into frantic yells and thrashing. Caught in the throes of his latest drug-induced nightmare, Wayne sat up, eyes unseeing and dilated, and lunged forward. Two strong, weathered hands then grabbed Tony's shoulders and pulled him back, out of range. “No! He needs to know I'm here!” Pennyworth did not lessen his grip, even as Tony struggled to get closer to the bedside.  
  
“He is going to hurt you in a state like this.”  
Even though Tony knew Alfred was right, it made him angry.  
“He's gonna hurt _himself_ in a state like this!”

When Alfred eventually relented, Tony stormed out of the room, only to return moments later with an iron gauntlet on his right arm. “Tranquilizer dart. Leaves no permanent damage. Got these from him, ironically.” Mouth a grim line, Tony then raised his wrist and fired. “I'm sorry, babe.” A whoosh and the dart hit its target. Bruce went slack and crumpled upon the mattress.

Alfred reached over to ease his protege into a comfortable position and pulled the blanket up around his still form. When his eyes found those of Tony Stark, equally horrified and devastated, the butler attempted a sad smile. “This was the right thing to do. For now. For the future, there needs to be something else.” Tony lowered his arm and stepped closer. The fingers of his free hand brushed over Wayne's damp cheek.  
  
“You're right, Alfred. You are very much right.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

When Bruce woke from a heavy slumber, his tongue lay thick in his mouth, and his head felt like it was packed in cotton. He was in a cool, darkened room he soon identified as Tony's and his bedroom, and lay still to listen to surrounding sounds. There was nothing apart from the low hum of the AC. His skin felt too tight for his body, and Bruce started to move toes and fingers against the feeling of formication.

A wettish sensation slipped off his forehead to land on the pillow as he rose into a seated position. Placing the warm rag onto the nightstand, Bruce cast his naked body a baffled look as he swung his legs over the rim. Memories came back that instant; memories of making love to Tony and falling asleep. Rubbing his neck, Bruce stood up and went to get a pair of boxers.

As soon as he had rinsed his mouth and stood in the bathroom examining the still prominent, colorful bruises all over his body, a knock outside got his attention. “Master Wayne?” He left the room to find Alfred standing there with a tray in his hands. On it were a steaming mug and a bowl with something that looked like porridge from afar. “Good morning, Sir. How are you feeling?”

The butler's voice was cautious, something Bruce only recognized after many decades.

“A bit out of it.”  
He tried for a genuine smile to take away Alfred's sorrow upon seeing his condition.  
“Bit hungry, too.”

Pennyworth seemed to brighten up at that and made a move to place the tray on the bed.  
“No, I'll take it in the kitchen, Alfred. Thank you.”  
Bruce waited until his soft steps on the carpet had faded out before he started to get dressed.

* * *

It had taken less than a week for all gossip rags to know only one headline.  
_'Hammer sues Stark – read how Justin fell victim to Tony's iron fists. Page 4'  
_ Underneath was a close-up of Justin Hammer and his battered face.

“That prick always had a penchant for over-dramatics.”  
With an enervated groan, Tony slapped the cheap magazine back on the kitchen counter.  
"Assault and battery are crimes and can result in jail time."

At her humorless statement, he slouched in the chair and clicked his tongue. “We're gonna plead it down to misdemeanor." She looked at him, eyebrow arched. "It’s misdemeanor if they are going for 2nd-degree assault, yes, but one that's still carrying the possibility of up to 10 years in jail." For once, Stark had no witty reply. Instead, he chewed on the end of his fork and looked out of the window.

"That won't happen. Even if our starting position is far from stellar at the moment." He looked at her with defiance. “I'm Iron Man, let's not forget that. They won't forget that, and I...” He stopped once footsteps approached them. At Bruce's entry, Tony and Pepper looked up at him. Their looks were apprehensive, but Alfred seemed to have given them a heads-up.

“Good morning.” The Gothamite forced an open expression on his face and stepped closer to take a seat. Tony hesitated the briefest of seconds when Bruce leaned in. Instead of a kiss, Wayne then brushed his upper arm and reached for the spoon next to his bowl of porridge. Stark watched him eat the first, tender spoonful before he cleared his throat.

“How are you today?” Bruce swallowed up before he inspected the gossip rag on the table. “Been better, been worse.” He blinked and reached for his cup of tea when the redhead across from him discreetly turned the magazine onto the back. Upon his clear, astute gaze, she allowed a tiny smile to play on her lips. “I need to take out the trash when I leave.”

Bruce had no reply to that and instead sipped on what turned out to be camomile tea. Pepper excused herself when her blue tooth earpiece started to blink an incoming call. With an apologetic gesture she meandered off towards the vast patio of the mansion. Tony and Bruce watched her cross arms in front of her chest, before they averted their gazes.

While Stark went back to mutilating his stack of waffles, his fiancé reached over to flip the magazine around again. “And so it begins.” His voice sounded flat, even if Tony chortled, mouth full. “It's over even before it begins, you'll see.” One of the large glass sliding doors opened enough for Pepper to slip back in. Her delicate brows were furrowed as she searched and found the men's eyes.

Tony tilted his head ever so slightly. She took a deep breath and focused on him. “Hammer has put forth his lawsuit. You have been charged with simple assault and a possible penalty of 30 days in jail.” Tony squinted at her as he went to stir some sugar into his coffee. “That's good news then, isn't it.” She pressed her lips together for a moment.

“Not really. It means you're not entitled to a jury trial. Your case will be tried at a bench trial.”  
Pepper's voice was grave.  
“And the date's been set for this Friday.”

* * *

On a bright and sunny morning, a black limousine with tinted windows stopped in front of the New York County Court.

“Fuck.” Tony glimpsed at the leering crowd of paparazzi and reporters outside. “Looks like we've gotta give them a show to demonstrate our complete and total superiority.” Bruce stopped running the pad of a thumb over the door handle. “That should be a piece of cake for you.” In one swift move, Tony had scooted over to his side and gripped his free hand.

“We got this. Together. And you're gonna give them the best Brucie impression you've got.” Despite his disposition, Wayne gave the faintest smile and moved to open the door. Fingers intertwined, they stepped out of the Rolls Royce and slid their sunglasses on. Tony threw a few victory signs up in the air with his free hand while Bruce kept his face and stance nondescript.

Reporters hurled questions at them, mostly at Tony, but both men remained silent. The noise level died down the instant that the massive doors to the courthouse closed behind them. Inside, there was no sight of Hammer, but Tony's lawyer, Felix Alvarez, was already waiting for them. “Miss Potts told me you requested no further company.” Stark nodded. “The less, the better.”

Alvarez nodded and gripped his attache case off the floor.  
“Hammer's party is already seated.”  
With grim determination, Tony nodded, re-gripped Bruce's hand, and strode on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix (Ricardo) Alvarez is an Earth-616 canonical character and an actual lawyer who has defended Tony Stark in many cases.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's safe to say there will be a lot of legal inaccuracies in this and the following chapters. And no, I don't want to get sued by either DC or Marvel to have a first-hand experience on how trials work, thank you very much (stupid disclaimer is stupid)

At the bailiff's opening announcement, all parties rose from their chairs. Presiding was Judge Donald; a tall, elder Afro-American lady with streaks of gray in her hair and a stern look from behind golden-rimmed glasses. “The Court calls cause Justin Hammer versus Anthony Stark.”

Hammer's lawyer by the name of Philip Barnett sat next to him at the counsel table. Upon having the floor, he rose and began to meander along the courtroom. After persevering in a reflective stance for the longest time, finger to his lips, he eventually made a widespread gesture.

“Your Honor, my client has been violently attacked and severely injured by the defendant. His rehab is ongoing and painful, and puts him through a lot of stress and anxiety. In a personal injury case, the tort of assault is usually defined as any intentional act that is meant to cause a 'reasonable apprehension of imminent and harmful contact'. This is exactly what Anthony Stark had in mind, on the night of the charity event at the Waldorf Astoria.”

Judge Donald thanked him with a brief nod before turning to the opposite party.  
“Mister Alvarez, do you care to make an opening statement?”  
The lawyer nodded and stood up to step in front of the court clerk's table.

“Your Honor, my client is known by each and everyone on this planet in his role as Iron Man. He has protected and served this city and whole country over a dozen times in the past. He is, what the American society calls, a hero. His and Mister Hammer's history is characterized by rivalry.” The meekest sound of dismay erupted from the plaintiff's table. Tony could not help himself but to cast a very rotten glare over.

Before anything could happen, the judge spoke again.  
“Thank you, Mister Alvarez. Now, Mister Barnett, please call your first witness.”  
Barnett stood up and nodded.

“I call Anthony Stark.“  
With a meek, joyless smirk, Tony smothered his tie with one palm.  
“Here goes nothing.”

His whisper was met with his counsel's frown. Stark then followed the bailiff over to the witness stand.

"Please state your full name for the record."  
All sarcastic, Tony nodded.  
“Anthony Edward Stark.”

After he had waited for the clerk to finish typing, Barnett zeroed in on Tony.

“Mister Stark, for a man with your background, you are bound to have a fairly good judgment on what is right and what is not, don't you?”

“Sure do. I am Iron Man.”

“Is it a noble and common trait for Iron Man -and I use that term loosely- to go and beat up innocent citizens on a public event?”

“I hardly deem Hammer innocent to begin with.”

“Please answer the question, Mister Stark.”

“Listen junior, I told him to back off, he didn't.”

“Is it true that you feel inferior to my client's recent public redemption? As far as I know, you have not been actively pursuing national interests other than pursuing your personal warfare.” Tony actually laughed in his face, until an uncompromising glare from the judge got him to clear his throat. “Don't get cute with me here. One look at the books and you'll see how much Stark Industries does for charity, long before that shitweasel over there decided to go Mother Teresa.”

“Mister Stark, please watch your language.” Judge Donald sounded less than amused. A glimpse at their table provided Tony with a shake of the head from Bruce. “Any more questions Mister Barnett?” When Hammer's lawyer negated, she addressed Alvarez. He rose to present the first piece of evidence in form of a stack of papers.

“I would like to introduce evidence of Mister Hammer's bill of indictment following up the incident at Stark Expo in the year 2010. If it had not been for my client, Justin Hammer would have been responsible for the deaths of thousands of people, due to his lack of hindsight and expertise.” Philip Barnett put his hands behind his back and straightened up.

“My client paid his dues and is a free citizen, your Honor. I would like to introduce evidence in form of my client's hospital bills, to showcase how Mister Stark's violent display has impaired his life.” While the judge paused to inspect all evidence provided, Hammer's consulted with his lawyer. After a couple of moments, Barnett walked up to the judge's raised desk. Facing the defendant's table, his face morphed into a feral grin.

“Your Honor, I would like to call Bruce Wayne.”  
Judge Donald seemed to ponder the request for a few moments.  
“Sustained.”


	17. Chapter 17

As Tony went back, Bruce simultaneously rose from his seat. They locked eyes until they passed each other by to switch places.

"Please state your full name for the record."  
The Gothamite kept his gaze straight ahead.  
"Bruce Theodore Wayne."

"How do you know the claimant?"  
Bruce's face remained emotionless as his eyes found those of Justin Hammer.  
"Hardly, if at all."

“Mister Wayne, you have been present when Mister Stark physically assaulted my client?”  
“Yes.”  
“Please tell us how the incident happened.”

“Hammer and I were talking when Stark joined in. Some words were exchanged, then...”

Bruce tilted his head ever so slightly. His eyes searched and found the large, anxious ones of his fiancé.  
Hammer's lawyer demanded his attention again by blocking their eye contact with his body.  
“Is it true that the assault came totally out of the blue and completely unpredictable?”

“It... happened very fast.”

“Would you agree that Mister Stark is generally known for having quite a short temper?”

“Objection! That is nothing but hearsay!”

The judge looked at the defendant's table but was quick to focus back on the attorney.

“Sustained. Mister Barnett, please move on to the next question.”

Hammer's attorney gave the faintest of nods and focused beady eyes back on the Gothamite.

“What was it my client spoke to you about that apparently made Mister Stark relent to violence?”

“I...”

Trying to force the little black and white squares in front of his vision away, Bruce swallowed.

“... I don't remember. Nothing of importance.”

“So you are saying Mister Stark simply went and applied brute force on my client for nothing?”

“No. It was a... misunderstanding.”

“Tell me Mister Wayne, how long do you and Mister Stark know each other? More than two years?”

“Objection! That is completely irrelevant to the case at hand.”  
Tony's lawyer adjusted his glasses. Philip Barnett's smile turned lethally friendly.  
“It takes time to get behind the true character of a man who is living a double life, albeit public.”

Barnett let the sentence linger in the room until he closed in on the man on the witness stand.

“Mister Wayne, if you don't mind me asking: Those injuries you have, even if covered up very well, where do they stem from?”

“They... it was an accident at polo.”

“Mister Wayne, do I have to remind you that you are under oath?”

“No.”

“Let me rephrase my question: Are your injuries in any form correlated to Mister Stark?”

“I fell off a horse during a match. It... happens.”

“Your Honor, it is not uncommon for victims of domestic abuse to try and cover for their partner...”  
Behind them, a palm slammed on wood.  
“Oh come on, what are you hinting at here?”

Tony's voice had turned snide. Hammer's lawyer suddenly wore a shark-like, thin smile as he spread his arms. “Your Honor, I think it is safe to say Anthony Stark can be considered a menace, armor or not.” Tony shot up from his seat, finger jabbing at the lawyer. “You fucking take that back you little...” The sound of a heavy gavel being slammed on wood echoed through the hall.  
  
“Mister Stark! Stand down! This is a courtroom.”  
  
Chest heaving, Tony cast wild, helpless eyes over to where Bruce sat. Wayne kept his gaze down on the floor in front, unblinking. At the silent, single shake of his lawyer's head, Tony glowered but complied and plopped back down. Philip Barnett put up a triumphant, condescending look.

“No further questions, your Honor.”  
Brief panic flittered across Tony's expressive features, but then the judge spoke up.  
“Mister Alvarez, do you need a minute with your client?”

Trying to stay calm, Tony's lawyer shook his head.  
“My client is sorry for his outburst, your Honor.”  
Judge Donald kept her stern glance on them for the longest time.

“Mister Alvarez, please go on.”  
  
With an almost apologetic voice, the lawyer went into a pre-discussed round of questions that put heavy emphasis on Tony's good deeds, and their mutual strife for giving society back best way they could. As soon as Bruce was released, Felix Alvarez then stepped up to the plaintiff's table.

“I would like to call Justin Hammer.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am sorry for always messing with Bruce's (non-existant) middle name. I don't know why but it irks me that he doesn't really have one, canonically speaking. Oh, and since the Batman is supposedly based on Roosevelt (albeit loosely), well... renegade mind one, author zero.


	18. Chapter 18

The following ten minutes could best be described as Justin Hammer's big teary-eyed show. The industrialist trembled and whined throughout the interrogation. By the time he asked in a shaky voice for a glass of water, Felix Alvarez was on the verge of calling him out on his charade.

“Mister Hammer, you have been seen at the Country Club of Florida three days ago. A fairly bold move for a man with your apparent state of physical distress to go and play golf.” Hammer sniffled and winced. “I took an extra Vicodin to help me get through the day. That fundraiser for Africa was important enough to me to try and push past my own misfortune and pain that day.”

Tony put both elbows on the table and started massaging his temples. He did not even listen anymore as Hammer's own lawyer took over and spun the whole tale even further. Alvarez shoved the dossier on their table into one neat pile. “Sorry Mister Stark, it doesn't look too good.” Next to Tony, Bruce glimpsed at the notes taken by their attorney. Most of Alvarez' strategic ideas were crossed out or sported an added question mark.

He felt a cold surge run through his body, accompanied by a small tremor and forced himself to breathe in deep. Judge Donald's voice boomed through the room again, demanding everyone's attention. “Does either side have anything further for the Court to consider?” When both lawyers denied, judge Donald adjusted her glasses and put a piece of paper aside with a final, grim expression.

“The defendant is found guilty.”  
  
Neither Tony nor Bruce made a move as the gavel slammed down. “Anthony Edward Stark, you are given a fine of $2,500 for assaulting Mister Hammer. Taken the circumstances of your public persona into account, the Court dismisses a charge under section 10. The Court is adjourned.” Shuffling erupted as everyone got up. Bruce was one of the first to reach the door.

As the two parties brushed past each other on the way outside, Tony had to force his fists to stay inside the pockets of his pants. “You really take no prisoners.” Hammer nodded; a manic glint in his eyes. “No prisoners – only trophies. And this...” He pointed at the fleeting back of the Gothamite. “... this is the biggest trophy I could get.” Justin Hammer then gave a sickly sweet smile.

“Safe to say your perfect little world is destroyed - just like you destroyed mine, Anthony, no?”

* * *

Instead of heading out, Bruce sought out a solitary place high atop the courthouse building. After taking a couple of deep breaths, he braced himself against the weathered railing and lowered his head. Tony found him like that ten minutes later, the wind playing with some loose strands of his hair. “Why aren't you in the car?” Wayne squinted but did not meet his lover's gaze. “Too many reporters down there.”

Tony made a disdained clicking sound with his tongue.  
“And right now we're giving Hammer the time of his life, gloating about his victory.”  
A sideways glance.

“Let him go, it's of no use.”

Tony ran his fingers through his hair, scratching at a spot in his nape, and pursed his lips. “Well, it certainly would've been easier if we had proof of just how much of a wretched dickhead Hammer is, to nail his ass to a prison cot forever, but... there's that.” Bruce's expression turned belligerent. “I told you before that was no option for me.” Annoyed, Tony waved him off.

“Yea, yea, yea, I know. You and you goddamn secrets.” When Bruce did not reply, Tony mock snorted. “Any more secrets I have yet to find out about, huh? Teddy? Seriously, why am I learning that just now? _Theodore._ Man. You think you know a guy, and then...” Bruce's grip on the banister tightened until his knuckles turned white. “You. Don't. Understand.” The words were pressed through gritted teeth.

Tony gave a dramatic nod that resembled a bow and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I probably don't. I mean, to be fair, it's a little hard for me to do that - considering you just committed perjury in favor of Hammer while I get to pay that fuckhead for destroying our lives!” Wayne turned hard and brittle eyes onto the skyline of New York as a gust blew across his face. “Go wait in the car. Give me five more minutes.”  
  
For a moment, Tony looked like he was about to protest. Instead he ran a hand through his hair again. “Sure.” With a final glance at the broad back of his fiancé, Tony left for downstairs. After ten minutes, he became impatient and pulled out his phone. Bruce's mobile was still switched off. After fifteen minutes, Stark told his driver to wait some more and made his way back inside the courthouse.

The rooftop was empty, as were the restrooms and the public waiting areas.  
  
Bruce Wayne was gone without a trace.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Center Street to Foley Square. Turn right onto Worth Street. Several minutes until E Broadway.

His feet carried him towards the Lower East Side of Manhattan in less than 20 minutes. By then, the shirt he wore was damp and clung to heated skin under his jacket. Throat dry, Bruce tried to get his glands to produce some saliva to ease the feel. Moving past tourists, business men and women on their lunch break, young mothers with strollers and coffee to go cups, he soon reached a more deserted part of the borough.

A group of twenty-something males lingered in the shadows of a back entrance, surrounded by trash cans and litter. As soon as he stopped his stride and looked their way, one of them slowly detached himself from the rest and walked up to him. “Fancy watch you've got there, Mister.” Bruce looked at the skinny young man with his huge, black-rimmed glasses. His eyes kept darting around the Gothamite.

“Bet that thing is a real Rolex.”  
The hipster pointed at his wrist. Wayne nodded, once.  
“What do you have?”

The sparsely grown beard on the boy's upper lip curled in satisfied delight.  
“Happy to serve ya, Sir. Come on up.”  
With a final glimpse back, Bruce followed him down further into the alleyway.

* * *

“His mobile's turned off. Probably took out the SIM as well.”  
  
After having forced his driver do make never ending circles around Tribeca and Lower Manhattan for the longest time, ear glued to the phone and eyes out of the windows, Tony updated his assistant. “Should we call the police, Tony?” Unbeknownst to her, his mouth twisted in disgust.

“Heck, no, Pep. Listen, I'll be back at the Tower in about 30, get a suit, head out again. Tell Alfred to stay alert - just in case the sneaky little shit he raised is going to get in touch, however unlikely.” Her following sigh was full of agony. “Do you think he'll...” Countenance grim and severe Tony started to gnaw at the edge of his pinkie.  
  
“Yeah. And I gotta stop him from doing it.”

* * *

After smoking the first round of crack cocaine, everything around him became very relaxing. Not even the seedy flophouse the gang around his new-found dealer, Max, as he had introduced himself, had moved into, disturbed him. Time passed, but he did not pay attention to it, either.

His Rolex had produced an immense yield, consisting of a, what Max had called, premium stash of uncut coke and some LSD for fun measures, because “Yo, Ted, you seriously need'ta chill more. Take one of these for an even greater experience. It's time for you to embrace the random.”

The little blotting paper was gone from his tongue in an instant. What was left was an immediate anger, up to the point where the trip was becoming too much and he did not know what to expect. His once so overly analytical mind began to play tricks on him, forcing him to lose control, to feel depleted.

_'Think!'_

He kept losing track and became obsessed with the fact that he could not keep a single straight thought.

_'Think!'_

He was sure he was going to die. That was when things turned south.

Suddenly he was trapped in the mind of a deaf, dumb, and blind man. He was scared for no reason. Or, for a very valid reason. Mortality. Fear for Tony. He had disappointed Tony. And Alfred. He was scared again, like back when he was eight years old. Those feelings amplified by a thousand, pushing him past the threshold of suicidal depression.

_'You've killed them all.'_

He barely heard voices aimed into his direction as he bolted for the door. A broken, dirty television shell was in his way and scraped his shin as he near stumbled and fell. Any air around him was gone completely, his lungs contracting whilst screaming for oxygen. He pulled at his jacket, hearing the loud ripping sound it made as he tore it apart.

_'Too late!'_

A strange sensation flooded through him. Looking down, Bruce saw himself standing amid the shards of what used to be a door with little glass frames. Red liquid was running through his fingers. It did not hurt. Outside, the wind had started to pick up and began to pelt him with dirt.

_'You are going to hell.'_

His eyes were blinking too fast for his brain to be able to keep up. Heart palpitations made it difficult for him to walk upright, and he sunk down to his knees in the dumpster filled alley. The smell was vomit-inducing, and he dry-heaved for a few seconds, but nothing came up. Somewhere, cats meowed a screeching cacophony. Their sounds got interrupted by an awful and loud high-pitched whine, and he had to cover his ears.

Pressing himself closer to the dirty pavement, trying to become invisible, his nostrils rebelled at the reeking odor of piss, alcohol, and trash. A light beam shone over his head, illuminating his curled up, fetal form. The ground shook as something landed in front of him with a metal clang. Flight instinct kicked in as steps moved into his direction, and he started to crawl away on hands and knees. Colors faded around him.

“No.”

“Bruce...”

“NO!”

Through his drug-addled mind, he recognized the voice, albeit synthetically modified.

“Get... away... from me... or... you'll die!”

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Iron Man's massive physique closing in and looming above.

“Babe, stop. I'm here to help you.”

“Too late... too late...”

He continued to whisper those two words as he robbed away, trying to escape the scrutiny, the shame, the reproach. At some point, there was a huge brick wall blocking his way. Grimy fingers clawed into protruding bricks, trying to get back up on his feet and over the wall, but it was of no use. His arms gave way underneath him, forcing him face down into the dirt, breathing heavily.

Jarvis' voice broke through the stupor Tony had fallen under after watching the devastating scenery with a constricted throat. “Mister Wayne's vitals are highly erratic. Sedation is required to prevent him from sustaining serious damage.” Behind the faceplate, Stark closed his eyes as he made use of the necessary stun gun on his fiancé for the second time in a week.

Once the strung-out Gothamite did not move anymore, Tony bent down to scoop him up with care.  
“Jarvis, give the Passages a call. I need a room and a 28-day inpatient program, asap.”  
With Wayne's limp body in his arms, Iron Man looked from him up into the sky and back.  
  
“This is for the best, babe.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Batsocks for explicitly requesting a chapter of 'trip gone bad'- Bruce. Sadistic minds think alike!


	20. Chapter 20

When Tony appeared at the Tower, both Pepper Potts and Alfred Pennyworth were waiting for him.  
“Same-day rehab admittance at Passages.”  
His monotone voice was met with quiet shuffles and heavy breathing.

“How long?”  
Pepper's question was timid. Tony's answer steady and instant.  
“A month. Longer, if necessary.”

Alfred took the information in stride. His clear gaze held onto Tony's miserable appearance. “He will need clothes and necessities. Would you mind letting me come to your apartment to pack a suitcase?” Tony gave a mechanic nod and walked alongside the butler towards the elevator. “I took the best rehab center there is. I wouldn't know if his hometown has any, and besides...”

“Gotham would not be suitable for his needs.”  
As they were going up, Alfred's conclusion held a succinct tinge of reproach. Tony eyed him through wary, narrowed slits.  
“Only Gotham?”

Moments later, the elevator dinged and opened its steel doors. Neither man moved to step out of it. Alfred clasped his hands in front. “What do you mean, Sir?” Stark made an inviting gesture towards the private quarters, letting the elder man enter first. “I know you're blaming me for what's happened. You've never wanted him to be with me in the first place.” Walking two steps behind, Tony wiped a hand over his face.

“Maybe you were right.”

Once they entered the large dressing room, Pennyworth then turned around. “I did not, that is true. For very selfish reasons. But I always wanted to see the boy find true happiness.” His clear blue eyes fixated Stark with a determined glance. “My boy deserves more happiness than anyone else in this world. I swore to myself I would ensure that he gets it as long as I breathe.”

Perplex at such a rare display of emotion, Tony only stared at the elder man, until he cleared his throat. “He's not allowed any visitors during the first weeks of treatment. We... can write letters, they said.” Alfred gave a nod as he went to get a set of suitcases, all monogrammed with BW. “Very well, Sir. I do believe it is best for me to head back to Gotham then, to see about matters at hand.”

Tony pushed his lower jaw forward and nodded, not about to argue. “Pepper and 'll keep you updated on any news.” Pennyworth paused unzipping the bags and looked at him. “One call and I will be back here in two hours.” The Californian billionaire could not help but smirk at the determination in the butler's voice. “One of these days I'm going to get you your own suit, Alf. Gotham – New York in 20 minutes.”  
  
A pained expression lay in the elder man's eyes as he passed him by.

“Just give me my boy back, Master Anthony, it is all I ask.”

* * *

That night, when Alfred Pennyworth sat on a Stark Industries Gulfstream jet en route to Gotham City, and Bruce Wayne lay shivering and writhing under the sheets of the Passages as they monitored his vitals, Tony Stark was just about to nurse the third glass of single malt scotch. Way past midnight, soft stiletto clicks echoed through the vast recreational area of Stark Tower.

From where he had stared into the amber-colored liquid for the longest time, Tony raised his head only by a few inches. “Save your breath, I need this tonight.” Instead of an answer, Pepper Potts brushed a hand along his upper back until she appeared in the corner of his eye. She still wore her business costume, but her meticulous updo had lost some of its rigor.

“I'll have one, too, please.” Baffled, he watched her slide onto the bar stool next to him with slow, dignified motions. Tony hastened to fish for a second crystal tumbler from the bar, and poured another shot, not without a smirk. “Drinking on the job, Potts? Do as I say, don't do as I do.” Glasses clinked before they sipped on their drinks.

“I'm off the clock.” She mimicked his humorless smirk and swirled the liquid in the glass around. “I've thought things through. Your plan on dragging out the payment to annoy Hammer is not going to accomplish anything.” His expression turned petulant. “That asslord's going to get his chump money in twelve neat little, monthly installments. This will accomplish a lot regarding my own, personal state of satisfaction.”

Pepper worked her jaw but said nothing. Instead, she nipped at her glass once more. “In any case, I have taken the liberty to dig a little deeper into those so-called charities of his.” At that, two large brown eyes flew up and stared at her. “Give it to me.” She slowly shook her head. “Too early. Which is why we need something else as a backup. Something even more powerful.”

Tony gave an audible sigh and gulped the rest of his current beverage. “If only we'd still have those video files. The whole thing is seriously so fucked up beyond any recognition, and the worst part of it all is Hammer gets to gloat about it each and every single day.” Pepper watched her friend and confident of many years pound the expensive tumbler down onto the massive mahogany bar with the last few syllables.

"Isn't it possible there's anything left you might have overlooked?” One hand already curled around the bottle, Tony shook his head. "I've double- and triple-checked, Pep! There's nothing! Bruce is a damn good hacker!" His expression then turned thoughtful and he let the bottle sink. "But there's one place he hasn't checked..." Pepper was left to stare at his back as he jumped off the chair.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
Tony threw her a final glimpse over his shoulder.  
"Trying to find out if I'm right!"

 


	21. Chapter 21

“You're up early.”  
Pepper looked up, smiled with affection, and continued to click on something on her screen.  
“What choice do I have?”

Natasha closed the door and walked up to the large desk. “I've come to relieve you of some of your heavy workload, as requested.” Two fingers with accurately painted red nails held up a sleek little device. “I didn't say you should, but thank you.” When Pepper made a move to grasp for it, the other woman withdrew her hand with a tut and a smirk.

“It also wasn't really nice of you to keep _that_ info from me all the time.” The distinctively pronounced 'r' of Romanov's voice caused Potts' clear blue eyes to narrow, even though her face remained stoically professional. “It was not on me to tell you. I said once the time is right, Tony will open up, eventually. The way it went, however, was... the worst to ever happen.”

After a few seconds, then Romanov slid the USB stick into her still outstretched palm. “I haven't told Fury.” Pepper nodded, both at the statement and the item and proceeded to save her current files before she plugged the device into her laptop. “I know I can trust you. Tony still has his issues, but...” The Russian spy then moved closer to slide one hip onto the desk. “... he's just a man.”

Her warm accent made Pepper chuckle while she waited for the data to load. “A genius at that. Don't let him hear you.” Both women turned their eyes to the screen when it showcased several files filled with pictures, scans, and text documents. Pepper pulled up a StarkPad from her drawer and flipped it open for the other woman to grab. “Let's compare notes."

Romanov slid from her place on the desk and pulled up a second chair. For a while, they sat side by side and sighted the material in silence. Eventually, Natasha held up the pad. “This matches your initial idea.” Reading along, Potts nodded and clicked her nails on the mahogany table in a steady rhythm. “Still, this doesn't add up. Hammer has his fingers in so many pies, charity-wise, there's got to be an ulterior motive.”

Natasha let the pad sink, curled her lip, and glanced up. “Of course. You know I haven't been keeping tabs on that sleazeball since 2010 for nothing.” Thinking about Monaco, Pepper could not help scrunching up her face. “Back then I was too busy trying to not find out Tony was dying from Palladium poisoning while avoiding you to go sleep with him at the same time.” Natasha hummed along throatily.

“For very unselfish reasons, I am sure.”  
Potts kept her deadpan expression as she pulled up one of the scanned files for closer inspection.  
“Indeed.”

* * *

Two hours passed by, only interrupted by Pepper's assistant bringing them fresh coffee, water, and snacks. By now, Potts had taken off her jacket while Natasha ever so often got up to walk around the huge office and cracked her neck. A triumphant little exclamation then prompted her to walk back and come to stand close behind her, leaning over to look at Pepper's outstretched finger.

“There we have it! Dirty money laundering. It doesn't get any more pathetic than that. Add a couple of corrupt senators and governors to the mix, and there we have one of the biggest problems of this world's society.” Natasha's intelligent gray eyes found those of her opposite. “Now what? Turn the info over to the authorities?” Pepper Potts blew out her cheeks in a near soundless manner, blinking several times.  
  
“Anonymously, yes. As much as it pains me to say that because it would just be the public payback Tony deserves.”  
The black widow suddenly wore a very dangerous, albeit enticing grin.  
“He will have his вендетта soon enough, don't worry.”  
  
Pepper craned her neck to look up and let her hand linger on the other woman's arm.  
“Thank you.”  
At the tug on her sleeve, the Russian spy then leaned in close to kiss her square on the lips.

“Anything for you, любимая.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> вендетта - revenge/vendetta
> 
> любимая - darling


	22. Chapter 22

Mark 33 touched down in front of the huge computer system at the cave, leaving wet footprints. After dismantling, Tony looked around the dark, quiet premises and swallowed. Even with Bruce around, the large cavernous system never felt anything remotely accommodating, but the absence of its creator and the circumstances behind it made it even grimmer and desolate.

“Master Anthony.”  
From where he had sunken into the chair in front of the supercomputer, Tony craned his neck.  
“Sorry for the unannounced visit, but I need to check on something.”

The butler's steps came closer until he appeared close behind Tony, looking at the many screens. “You do not have to explain. I was just registering movement, and for a second I thought...” Tony averted his eyes to not witness the sadness and disappointment in those blue eyes. “There's no moment I'm not thinking about him either, Alf. While he's in there, fighting his own demons, I hope I can win the final battle for... all of us.”

The login logo flashed up at him in bright green hues, so Tony paused to type in his password and hit enter. Alfred clasped his hands behind his back. “If you don't mind me asking, Sir: What do you have in mind?” The rogue gallery came up but Tony minimized it, pulling up another window.  
  
“Remember those feeds Hammer sent? They've been on this system as well. Even if Bruce deleted everything from my mainframe, chances are good there's still something on here we can use.” Pennyworth watched the familiar desktop spring to life and looked at the man next to him. “If you are planning on giving out what Master Bruce has been trying hard to conceal, then I am sorry, but I cannot let you go on and do this.”

When a weathered hand came down to stop him from typing, Tony looked up with a frown. “Hey now, I would never...” He pulled his hand free and inhaled, vexation written all over his features.   
  
“Here's what you don't get, Alf – you're thinking I don't care enough, but you're wrong! You're not the only one who'd put anything on the line for him! I failed him often enough in the past few weeks – with my hands legally bound so that I can't even go and smash that bastard's face in for what he's done to the one thing I'd put anything on the line for! I shall be damned if I don't go and try to stop it forever!”

The supercomputer bleeped upon the unfinished command, requesting action before it would shut down again. Alfred's hand slid off the other man's wrist, but Tony did not make a move to start typing. Instead, he rubbed a hand over his face, fingers pressing hard into the eye sockets. “Forgive me, Sir. My presumption was uncalled for.” Stark nodded wordlessly, to which the butler straightened up and cleared his throat.  
  
“Would you like tea or coffee to go with your late dinner?”

As soon as Pennyworth was upstairs, preparing a fresh pot of coffee and turkey cucumber sandwiches, Tony set to work. Getting into the system was easy enough; restoring the video feeds in reverse order, however, was harder than getting access to them in the first place. Reliving all the horror on screen almost made Tony retch out the dinner Alfred served him at some point, and he made sure the butler left before he pressed play.

_"Oh? So, Brucie, you're really game for taking up the slack then? Your boyfriend's going to be sooo proud of your heroic attitude. Or not. I mean, seeing he's about to watch you go down.”_

At the smacking sound that followed onscreen, Tony had to squeeze his eyes shut, unable to watch. From the physical state his fiancé was in, Tony knew he was getting closer to the beginning of the feeds. He held his breath until the final video fragments loaded.

When they were showing Hammer prepare what unmistakably resembled a hostage situation, giving orders to masked goons whilst brandishing a weapon around, he leaned back and exhaled with something between a laugh and a sob.

“Bullseye!”

As he waited for the data to upload on one of his external hard disk drives, his mobile began to vibrate in his pocket. He stood up to fumble the sleek device from the pocket of his denims. The blinking screen was showing a picture of Pepper Potts. Wiping over his face to replace his previous state of distress with a feral grin, Stark took the call.

“Tony? We've got good news.”  
The smile on his face turned even wider.  
“Tell me about it, sweetheart.”

* * *

“Tell us how you feel, Bruce.”

He had to refrain hard from sneering into the therapist's face. The Passages held two daily sessions of group therapy; forcing him to sit in the gardens of the rehab center with three other patients and listen to them pouring their hearts out over their inability to cope with life in general. After going through yet another draining period of withdrawal, Bruce nevertheless was glad to be able to benefit from a large team of professionals.

“I don't know.”  
  
Next to him, one of the more lackadaisical residents -a plump mother of four who always came in late for breakfast in her Prada pajamas- rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Not again.” Before Bruce could glower her to death, their therapist held up a placating hand and benignly shook her head. “Now, now, Debbie, everyone has a right to say as he or she feels.” The chemical dependency counselor then smiled an encouraging smile at him.  
  
“We've made such great progress last week, Bruce, do you recall what it was?” At the Passages, most counselors seemed to be hell-bent on trying to chalk up all residents’ illnesses to childhood trauma. At first, it had irked the man from Gotham beyond belief, but as soon as his mind and spirit, and most of all his brain started to resurface after getting rid of the latest chemicals in his system, he decided to play along.

“I'm compensating the lack of parental guidance with substance abuse.”

“Very good. What else?”

“I realize I was powerless and not in control anymore.”

He tried hard at not sounding like a mechanically reciting robot. Being surrounded 24/7 by primary therapists, so-called life purpose coaches, hypnotherapists, nutritionists, masseuses, as well as physical trainers and acupuncturists had started to take its toll on Bruce's usual, solitary nature. The therapist beamed at him, full of artificial pride, and he hurried to return the vapid gesture.

“See? That wasn't so hard there, now was it?”

He dutifully nodded along. If anything, his Brucie Wayne persona might even go and benefit from his rehab stint in the long run. When the doctor moved on to address an overly tanned man in his mid-fifties with slicked back, white hair, Bruce inwardly let out a deep sigh. He tried to relax his cramped up posture, leaned back in his chair, and focused on the magnificent view across the verdant hills of Malibu instead.

So far, two and a half week in, he had gotten an almost unhealthy amount of presents, flowers, and cards from Tony, as well as few lines from Alfred. The Gothamite had never bothered to reply until now or requested to get his mobile delivered into Passages as most other inpatients did.

_'Reach out once you are ready.'_

It was by far the only and most sensible advice from one of his therapists that Bruce Wayne had truly taken to heart. As soon as group therapy was over, he was the first to get back to his room. There, he sat down at his sparse desk for the longest time, until he moved to take out two envelopes and two blank pieces of paper from the drawer and began to write.


	23. Chapter 23

_'The Hammer dropped – Justin's fall from grace ends with 240 months in prison. More on page 2'_  
  
Tony's eyes read and re-read the headline of the e-paper, lips curling in satisfaction. “And let's not forget the ten years of supervised release, and the $ 15,016,541 he's got to pay in restitution. But really now, Nat... have the cops arrest him while he was channeling his inner Fifty Shades Of Gray fantasies there? Harsh.” He flipped the cover of the StarkPad shut with an admonishing whistle.

The nasty smirk on his face spoke volumes, however, and so the redheaded spy who sat aside shrugged. “Wait until you see the unofficial pictures going online tomorrow. The head harness ball gag really suited him.” While Tony all but sputtered out his coffee, Pepper snug a hand around Natasha's waist from behind with a barely contained smirk. “You two are having far too much fun with this.”

At the rare sight of them being relaxed and affectionate, the billionaire put his elbow up and looked at them. “Remember when you had the hots for me, Romanov? Oh, how things change.” Tony graced her with a fake, lewd grin before his eyes flew over to his CEO. “It's a good thing you were there to step in my shoes, even though I've never seen that one coming, to be honest. Will wonders never cease.”

Instead of answering him, Natasha turned around to look at her taller partner. “Remember when I was working in legal? What are you going to inherit again in case of Mister Stark's sudden, tragic demise?” Pepper curled her fingers around her waist and raised her coffee mug to her lips.

“A lot, I believe.”

Tony batted his lashes at the Russian with an affectionate smile. “Ah, beautiful women in love. What can I say? You two are going to be the perfect bridesmaids. Red plus red equals even hotter. Bruce will be pleased, though I feel like he'll need some time to get used to you, little spider spy.” He then cast a glimpse at his Bulgari watch and hopped off the bar stool.

“Speaking of which – I've got a date now. Later, ladies.”

* * *

When Tony finally got around to visit him, three weeks in, Bruce had lost a good 25 pounds. He also had not bothered to shave, but despite sporting a decent stubble, his always prominent cheekbones now looked like they could cut glass, making Tony afraid to reach out and touch them.

“They are treating me well.”

Wayne's voice was low and interrupted his silent examination. They walked side by side along the secluded beach strip of the rehab's premises, fingers interlaced. Despite the warm temperatures, Wayne was dressed in a black, far too big long-sleeved sweater. Tony hurried to nod back at him. “Glad to hear. How's the food?” Bruce's smile was strained around the edges. “They don't serve Domino's.”

His attempt at humor led to a strangled laugh from his fiancé. “Less than two weeks, then you can stuff your face with all the pizza in the world, honey. I'll make sure of that.” It had not failed to escape Tony's notice how Bruce had switched his engagement ring onto his middle finger. Wayne followed his line of view and raised their joined hands with a sad pinch of the lips.

"That's also something I wanted to talk to you about."   
  
Tony felt a faint prickle in the back of his neck starting to creep up. "Pizza?" His try for comedy relief was met with a serious countenance. “How can I continue being what I stood for all those years? If not even I was able to withstand what happened? I'm going to be an addict for life, Tony, and no amount of training will ever go and change or reverse that, as much as I wanted it to.”

For a few heartbeats, Wayne simply stared off into the distance. “I'm not the man you've chosen by your side anymore.” He let go of Tony's hand to start pulling at the platinum band on his left. “It is more than right for you to be granted free choice of your previous decision, so I wanted...” A sturdy hand then stopped his motions, squeezing almost painfully hard. Stark's eyes were large and distraught.  
  
“No. If you do this now, you are worse than all those people who've tried to break my body and spirit in the past twenty years combined.”

At the low voice, Bruce stopped his motions, shock flickering across his gaunt features. Tony locked his jaw. “There's nothing on earth to keep me away from you. Ever. And I want us to get married. As soon as possible.” He slipped the ring back down and gripped his lover's hand tight, feeling the coldness of Bruce's fingers. “We'll get through this. Together. Just like we got through everything else.”   
  
For a while, Bruce said nothing. Tony prompted him to keep on walking. “I almost lost it in the pool. Hopefully won't happen again this way.” Stark gave a loving squeeze to his hand and gently nudged his shoulder. “See? We should've gone with the tattooed version like I suggested, but nooo, you were having none of it, you old spoilsport.” His attempt at lightening the mood elicited the smallest of smiles.

“That's a level even I haven't stooped low enough to.” Their bare feet were covered in sand and saltwater. Inhaling deep, Tony dragged a toe through a muddy streak. “Speaking of low level – he's behind bars again. Once and for all.” Bruce stopped to face the ocean. His chest heaved as he took a couple of deep breaths.

“How?”

“Basically a double whammy. I took what was left on your mainframe to show Hammer preparing a hostage situation. No names or faces needed. The rest? Dirty money laundering for his so-called charities. Pays off to have a CEO who worked in finance all those years. Pepper's the best. Oh, and Nat, too of course. There's _something_ I still have to tell you – I'm sure you'll be delighted to hear.”

When Bruce said nothing, Tony ducked and weaseled into his embrace.  
"It's finally over.”  
No sooner than the words had left his mouth, his lover drew him close.  
  
“Almost.”

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of consensual m/m in this chapter

Watching Bruce getting back in shape was a gratifying and beautiful sight to behold.

Tony would spend hours high up in his mansion's home office, the one usually used most by Pepper, just to watch him spar and weight train all by himself, downstairs in the private gym. By now, Stark Mansion was sporting a huge collection of the best protein supplements. On top, Tony had hired a temporary cook at their beck and call, solely for the purpose of getting his lover the most nutritious foods available.

“Were you ogling me or the ocean?”  
Tony had to refrain from flinching. Bruce's stealth mode was already more than back to normal.  
“Both are worth it, but there's something about your rear end in track pants that gets to a guy.”

He closed his eyes as two strong arms wound themselves around him from behind. A warm gust of breath at his ear then made him shiver. "Follow me." Perplex, Tony grabbed his shades, shimmied into a pair of flip-flops, and did as he was told. Bruce led him down to the private beach where they witnessed the sun already starting to go down. From afar, Tony saw a large blanket spread out on the sand.

A bottle cooler was placed atop of it; the beverage inside non-alcoholic. Two glasses and a pair of candles completed the setup. Stark clicked his tongue. “Trying to seduce me here, Mister Wayne?” Instead of an answer, Bruce's fingers slipped underneath his shirt and pulled. “Trying to make up for all the lost time.” In little to no time, they were naked, heading out for the waves that were breaking on the shore.

The sea was warm but pulled at them with surging and plunging waves. Many times, Tony almost lost the ground under his feet, but Bruce was there to hold on to him, as solid as a rock. When Tony's arms and legs were firmly wrapped around his neck and waist, Bruce's large palms cupped his face and drew him in with an almost reverent hunger for his mouth.

“This.” In between deep breaths, Wayne ran his fingers through dark, thick locks over and over. “I've dreamed of this in rehab.” Stark dipped his forehead lower until it touched that of his fiancé. “Debauching me in the sea?” Bruce felt his arousal pressing up against his stomach. “You. Being close to you. Being... home.” Whatever quip Tony had on the tip of his tongue was lost as he kissed him back with fervor.

After a while, they let themselves float back ashore. There, Bruce pinned him to the ground and straddled him. Through large brown eyes, Tony cast an enraptured glance upwards as the Gothamite began to grind into him, along with the rhythm of the waves crashing all around them. “Love you.” Their kisses tasted of salt and sun. Tony arched his back and dug his fingers into Bruce's back, feeling the need for more friction.

“Dito.”

Mutual release washed over them far too soon for their liking, leaving them breathless and panting for air side by side on the beach, looking up at the sky. Rubbing some sand out of his lashes, Tony then rolled onto his left and pressed a kiss to the wet, muscled skin on Bruce's upper arm. “So... you do consider Malibu your home by now?” Hope resounded heavily in his voice. The Gothamite turned to face him, expression solemn.

“ _You_ are my home.”  
  
When Stark seemed truly taken aback by the rare honesty, Wayne allowed a tiny smile to appear.  
“But I do need to go back soon to tie up loose ends.”  
From where water was still washing around their pliant bodies, Tony regarded him with affection.  
  
“Anything you want, babe.”

* * *

The dark sedan with its tinted windows rolled onto the gravel driveway in front of the Manor.

Hands clasped behind his back, Alfred Pennyworth exuded that certain kind of dignity which hid any possible, underlying nervousness. The door opened and the first thing he saw was a pair of black, expensive shoes. “Master Wayne, you look well-rested.” Bruce nodded once and remained standing at the open door, one hand atop the car roof.

“I am.”

Before the silence between them got too loud, Bruce cleared his throat and stepped aside, looking behind him. “A lot of this has to do with a certain someone, who also wanted to see you.” Even if stride and pose were as self-assured as ever, insecurity lurked within Tony Stark's eyes as he stepped out of the limousine with a jaunty little hop. Pennyworth regarded him from head to toe until he inclined his head.

“Master Anthony.”  
His voice held a faint tinge of hesitation.  
Tony nodded in greeting, but averted his gaze and pocketed his shades.  
  
“Alfred.”  
Bruce squared his shoulders and deliberately reached for his fiancé's hand.  
“Why don't we go inside.”

Over tea and coffee in the vast and posh conservatory, the mood hovered between stiff and awkward at first. Eventually, it was Tony Stark who got up from his chair, put the fine china aside and cleared his throat. Both Alfred and Bruce watched him pace over to the glass front and back. “A couple of weeks ago you told me you wanted me to get you your boy back – which I did.”

Tony brushed a hand along Bruce's upper arm with affection. “But this here really isn't the kind of mutual trust plateau I can work with in the long run. So I thought...” Stark licked a set of dry lips and stood up to stand in between the chairs of Bruce and Alfred. “I thought I'd start off by asking you for Bruce's hand. Officially.” To reinforce his statement, he reached out to put a hand on Wayne's shoulder.

Bruce stared up at him, startled for once. “What has gotten into you?” Heavy confusion resounded in his question, to which Tony smiled. “A sense of responsibility, my love. You may have proposed, but this feels... appropriate.” After a little while, a warm smile spread out on Pennyworth's weathered countenance. “I am happy to give you my blessing, Sir. For I will not lose a son but gain another one instead.”  
  
When Tony turned to Bruce, he wore a smug grin to distract from the brimming in his eyes.  
  
“See? I knew he liked me.”

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreign language bits in this chapter courtesy of google translator (sorry for any mistakes)

The wedding took place at the end of March, to find the happy medium between both Bruce's and Tony's birthday. Not that Wayne cared much about turning 37, but Tony had already given his approval to all kinds of '44 Never Looked So Awesome' invitations and party decoration articles for his birthday bash in May at Stark Mansion, so they agreed on an overseas ceremony.

A small delegation of wedding guests was invited to follow them to the Hilton resort in Curacao, flight and accommodation included. When Tony and Bruce faced the white linen canopy pavilion at the shore, ocean in front their major witness, the sun was about to set, drenching the whole scene into beautiful, atmospheric colors. Both grooms wore identical crème-colored suits and white shirts with no ties and no shoes.

Pepper and Natasha were beautiful in their bridesmaid dresses and floral hairpieces, and Alfred and Rhodey each cut a splendid figure in light gray suits. To his left, Bruce felt Tony fidget within their interlaced fingers. He gave a little squeeze and rubbed gentle circles with his thumb. “Change of heart? Last chance.” His voice was low enough to be overheard by their excited guests.

Stark harrumphed softly and studied his soon-to-be husband's profile. “Like hell. You?” As opposed to him with his neatly trimmed goatee, Bruce had opted for a casual look for their beach wedding, with longer hair and a well-groomed beard that held traces of ginger. Wayne smirked. “Sorry to disappoint. You're stuck with me.” That time, it was Tony who squeezed the hand resting inside his and inhaled.

“Let's do this.”

The gentle sound of waves rolling onto the shore accompanied them down the makeshift aisle of white sand framed by flickering torches. On little wooden chairs left and right, the guests watched them face each other as the officiant led through the ceremony. Tony's eyes were brimming when it was time for them to exchange their vows, but it was Bruce's voice that was hoarse as he repeated the words that sealed their union.

The officiant smiled at them and spread his arms. “This marriage does not mark the beginning of a new relationship; it is an acknowledgment and a celebration of a relationship that has been flourishing for a long time. By the powers vested in me I pronounce you, Anthony Edward Stark, and you, Bruce Theodore Wayne, as husbands for life.”

* * *

For the wedding party, the grooms had changed into matching black designer tuxedos. All eyes were on them as Bruce led his newly wedded husband across the parquet to the sounds of Etta James' 'At Last'. It was the only song the couple had been unanimous about from the get-go.

Later, when the tears were dried, food and drinks had been served, the dance floor was swarmed. Getting together a halfway decent playlist had led to one of the most heated debates prior to the event, until Pepper and Alfred had broken up the lover's quarrel and suggested a music lottery.

Thanks to their DJ, Tony laughed himself silly every time AC/DC followed upon Frank Sinatra, and Simon & Garfunkel and the Beach Boys had to share the slot with Rihanna and Lady Gaga. From where Bruce sat with a content expression and watched Tony swirl his former assistant around on the dance floor, someone then stepped into his line of view.  
  
“May I, Mister Wayne?”  
Natasha's gray eyes sparkled with amusement as she held her hand out. He mimicked her grin.  
“By all means, Miss Romanov.”

To the tunes of Nat King Cole's 'Unforgettable', Bruce swayed the petite redhead into a slow dance.  
After an initial silence, his mouth stretched into something akin to a suave smile.  
“ты и Pepper вы и III являются красивая пара.” _(You and Pepper are a beautiful couple.)_  
  
Even if her face remained even, her left eyebrow arched up.  
“Ты говоришь по-русски?” _(You speak Russian?)_  
“Я человек из многих секретов.” _(I'm a man of many secrets.)_

His uncommon cheekiness earned him an equally sassy reply.  
“Так что я слышал.” _(So I've heard.)_  
At that, his eyes turned more baiting than suave.  
  
“Мы оба знаем насколько важны секреты находятся.” _(We both know how important secrets are._ )  
Natasha held his gaze for the longest time, then smirked.  
“По рукам." _(Deal.)_  
  
Both turned to see Tony hovering in the back, watching them with a rather apprehensive expression.  
"I think your husband wants to cut in."  
The Gothamite gave a lazy blink and refastened his hold around her waist.  
  
“He _is_ rather possessive.”  
His words were laced with deep affection. It prompted Natasha to lean in and peck his lips.  
“A match made in heaven.”

  
~epilogue~  
  
_'"He said yes!" Stark & Wayne tied the knot. Get the scoop on the wedding of the year on page 4.' _

Full of venom, Justin Hammer threw the tattered magazine into the corner. It earned him the instant ire of his inmate. "I'll end you, you fuckhead! I haven't read that one yet!" Big Archie was a bald man with more tattoos than piercings, a good 5 inches, and about 60 pounds on Hammer. Outside where two guards stood talking, they stopped briefly to listen in on cell block D at the Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in Kansas.

“I thought he had learned his lesson.”  
Their crude laughter mingled with some high pitched, wailing cries.  
“Maybe next shower session he will.”

  
**THE END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE for reading, subscribing, leaving kudos and/or reviews! You are the best!!!
> 
> ~Stark-Wayne wedding play list (excerpt)~
> 
> ABBA – Dancing queen  
> AC/DC – You shook me all night long  
> Barry White - My First My Last My Everything  
> Beach Boys – Kokomo  
> Billy Idol – Mony Mony  
> Bob Seger – Old Time Rock n Roll  
> Bryan Adams – Summer of '69  
> Casey Jones and The Governors - Don't Haha  
> Def Leppard – Pour some sugar on me  
> Elvis Presley – Can't help falling in love  
> Gipsy Kings - Volare  
> Journey – Anyway you want it  
> Justin Timberlake – Sexy Back  
> Lady Gaga – Just Dance  
> Lulu – Shout  
> Los del Rio – Macarena  
> Men Without Hats – Safety Dance  
> Michael Jackson – The way you make me feel  
> Nancy Sinatra - These boots are made for walkin'  
> Rihanna – Don't stop the music  
> Simon & Garfunkel – Cecilia  
> The Black Eyed Peas – I gotta feeling  
> The Knack – My Sharona  
> The Weather Girls – It's raining men  
> Queen – I was born to love you  
> ZZTop – Sharp dressed man


End file.
